


Taron Drabble Collection

by badvibrations



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 10:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 26,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21336445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badvibrations/pseuds/badvibrations
Summary: Various drabbles for Taron & his characters based off of Tumblr prompts/requests.
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Original Female Character(s), Taron Egerton/Reader, Taron Egerton/You
Kudos: 37





	1. Skirt (Taron)

“Whatcha think?”

You aim the camera of your phone at the floor length mirror so Taron can see your outfit via FaceTime. His eyes narrow as he studies you through the screen of his phone, not speaking as he takes in your full appearance. The dress you are wearing is black, long sleeve, and practically form-fitting, with the hem stopping well above your knee.

“I think it looks cute,” you say, when Taron does not speak. “Figured I could wear some Docs with them, or something. Keep it dressy-casual.” Taron’s knits his brow, and swallows hard, letting out a quick sigh. “What?” you ask, finally.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Excuse me?”

“That skirt,” he says, nodding his head towards the phone. He shakes his head, and he is almost vibrating from trying hard to keep his cool. “I think you should change,” he says, with a nod.

“Oh, you think I should change,” you ask, with a laugh as you turn the phone back to the front facing camera. “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

“Darling,” he says, rubbing anxiously at his forehead as he very clearly is struggling. “I have no doubt that the skirt is supposed to be that length. I just don’t think you should wear it tonight.” This time, you say nothing, and only stare back at him through the phone; he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at you again. “You look lovely,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “But the dress may not be appropriate tonight.”

“You worried that people will wonder who the slut is that you’re with?”

“My worry is that I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” he snaps. “What can I say? You have a way of…twisting me up, and my desires become unbearable. Couple that with how furious I’ll be as soon as I see another man so much as look in your direction, and I’ll be dragging you somewhere more private where we can have a nice discussion.” You stare back at him through the phone, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be there soon,” he says. “If you walk out of your front door wearing that skimpy little dress, we may not even make it to the party tonight.”

“Taron–”

“Make up your mind, darling,” he interrupts, and immediately ends the call.

You smile to yourself, knowing that you have a knack for getting under Taron’s skin. Slipping your phone into your small purse, you grab your boots from the closet and slip them onto your feet, before you take a seat on your sofa and wait for Taron’s arrival.

After some time passes, you hear a car pulling into your driveway. You hook the strap of your purse over your shoulder, and make your way out the front door of your house, spying Taron sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. As soon as his eyes land on you, he visibly tenses, his hands twisting at the steering wheel. All you can do is smile, challenging him to find out what he is going to do next.


	2. Thigh Riding (Taron)

“If I can’t be myself around you, then who am I meant to be?” Taron stands with his hands placed on his hips, an expectant stare on his face awaiting your response. All you can do is chuckle quietly to yourself and set your phone down to give him your full attention.

“And this is who you are?” you ask. “The guy who wears hot pants?”

“They feel nice on my bottom,” he admits. “Apart from that, they are surprisingly more comfortable than one might imagine.”

“Taron, I never said anything negative,” you say, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa so you can prop your head up on your fist. “You look incredible in most things you wear, I’m sure this is one of them.” He lets out a sharp sigh, and you begin to think you have said the wrong thing. “Go try them on,” you say, gesturing with your free hand in the direction of the bedroom. “Let me get a look at you.”

Taron gives a quick nod before he is off to do as you ask. While he is gone, you contemplate the different versions of Taron you have had to endure during your relationship: the snug button ups & slacks of Mad Teddy Smith, the Lycra ski suit of Eddie Edwards, the popped collar polo shirts of Dean Karny, the tailor made suits and flat billed caps of Eggsy Unwin, even the tunic & tights of Robin of Loxley. However, this is shaping up to be a new adventure.

After wrapping on Rocketman, Taron had begun to pick up several quirks of the man he played – specifically, he wore much more vibrant clothing, as well as glasses that were far more extravagant than he would ordinarily. You have no problem with any fashion choice he makes, knowing he has learned a great deal over the past several years.

This development is new: the hot pants. He had mentioned several times when he was filming that he found certain articles of clothing much more comfortable than he had originally expected, though he never clarified which. Since you were often busy with work, you rarely had time to visit him on set, so the only outfits you have seen him in are the much more theatrical ones that had been caught on camera by paparazzi.

There is a certain excitement to seeing Taron in the shorts; no matter what shape he is in, his thighs are a marvel. You have never mentioned your feelings on his thighs, unsure of his reaction if you told him what you wanted to do to them. Thinking about what he is going to look like when he walks out of the bedroom causes a tug at your stomach, the anticipation already making you giddy.

“How’s this?”

Taron’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you focus on him, standing just outside the doorway of the bedroom with his arms held to his side. Wearing only the hot pants, white tube socks, and Doc Martens, Taron appears anxious; he acts as though he needs your validation that he looks okay.

Jesus Christ, you think. Taron laughs loudly, and you realize that you did not keep your thought to yourself, instead spoke it out loud.

“That good, eh?”

“You put your boots back on,” is all you can bring yourself to say.

“That’s it? That is what you’ve decided to focus on.”

Your eyes take in every inch of him. He had not been going to the gym, but while he is not as soft as you have seen him before, he seems sturdier – his arms, his chest, his hips, his thighs. You cannot take your eyes off of the way the legs of the hot pants hug the curves of each thigh, and you think for a moment that they have gotten bigger since you had seen him last. You swallow hard, shifting around and crossing your legs; the action causes Taron to laugh.

“You love it, don’t you?” he asks, walking towards you. You scrunch your face in confusion, acting as if you do not understand what he means. “Don’t play dumb,” he laughs. “You think I look fit in them.”

“I don’t understand why you had to put your boots back–”

“Keep on about the boots,” he chuckles. “You’ll only prove my point.” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself as you let out an unfortunately shaky sigh; you open your eyes and look at him once again.

“You look great, Taron,” you say. “As I said you would.” Taron narrows his eyes, unconvinced. After a moment, he moves to the sofa, sitting down beside you and staring at you, as if you should know what he is thinking. “What?” you ask.

“On my lap,” he instructs. The thought hits you in your stomach, and you feel the heat begin to pool in between your thighs. “First, I want you to take your clothes off, though,” he adds.

“Taron, what are you trying to do here?”

“Please, just listen to me, darling,” he sighs, dropping back against the sofa dramatically. “I have just enough energy left for this, so please listen.”

With a sigh, you remove your shirt, and then lift your hips so you can slide your shorts off of your legs. When you look to Taron, beginning to ask if he meant all of your clothes, he nods his head as if he can read your mind. Keeping your eyes on Taron’s face, you remove the remainder of your clothing and begin to straddle his lap.

Taron catches the back of your head and gently guides you forward to press your lips together. The sigh you let out quickly turns into a whimper as you force your hips against him, and immediately feel how is beginning to grow hard at the contact. One of your hands rests softly on his chest as he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, but at the feeling of his fingers grasping your backside, pinning you closer to him, your nails dig into his chest. Taron grunts, giving you a quick spank to cause some pain to you in return; you break from the kiss, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“You know, you don’t even need to tell me that you love the shorts,” he mutters, his fingers now creeping along your thighs. “You’re so drenched at the sight of me, I can feel you dripping on my lap.” Your cheeks flush at his statement, but he only laughs and shakes his head. “I think I know what it is that you enjoy about it,” he mutters, tilting his head to keep you gaze. “My thighs.”

“They do look good, yeah,” you finally say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Good enough to ride?” he asks, with a cheeky smirk.

“What?” you ask, blushing harder.

“Darling, the only way you’re getting off tonight is on my thigh.” Your mouth goes dry, the tightening sensation that was in your stomach now dropping lower. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he inquires, but from his voice, you understand that he already knows the answer. You nod your head slowly, incapable of forming a coherent sentence in the moment. “Go on,” he says, with a nod.

You size him up for a moment, as if you are unsure if he is being serious; when you see the way he tries to contain his excitement, you know that he wants to try it as much as you do. You maneuver so that you are only straddling one of his thighs, keeping your weight on your knees so you do not yet allow your heat to touch his thigh; you smirk as you eye him up.

“You can’t tease before the teasing,” he whispers, sitting up straight. He grasps the back of your thigh that is between his legs, edging it closer so that your leg is now pressed to his crotch. He lets out a soft hum, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw before he settles back against the sofa again.

You settle down so that you are finally in contact with his thigh, and you slowly begin grinding. The feeling is not what you expected, Taron’s thick thigh causing an interesting reaction. You are slick, and it rubs off on his skin, making your movements easier. With a small groan, Taron swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth as he watches you. An evil glint in his eye, he bounces his leg, jarring you with the pressure and sending a jolt through you.

“Fuck, c’mon, Taron,” you mutter, closing your eyes.

His name falls from your lips in a way that you had never spoken it before, a soft desperation. Your movements remain simple as you only shift your hips back and forth, but with each movement, your knee applies pressure against his crotch. The notion of Taron feeling a gnawing tightness in his beloved hot pants forces you onward, and suddenly, you are just as concerned with his pleasure as your own.

“Does it feel as good as you thought?” he murmurs, dragging you in by your shoulders so he can kiss your lips tenderly. “I know you’ve been envisioning it for some time now.” You whimper softly, pressing your foreheads together while you keep grinding. Suddenly Taron tenses his thigh, and you feel the movement of his muscles against you.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, grabbing onto his biceps as your thighs clench around him. “Fuck, that feels so good, Taron.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, desperately pulling your head to his for a sloppy kiss. While he has you distracted, he tenses his thigh again and again – you moan into his mouth, nails digging into his skin and dragging down his arms.

You are desperate for the friction that you feel, your hips rolling, trying to steady your rhythm as your motions had become sloppy and untimed – you needed to take it slow. Coming to a complete stop, you shudder softly, shaking your head because you cannot figure out what it is you need to do. Taron grunts, nudging you off of him so that you fall beside him on the sofa.

Prepared to snap, you glare at him, but he stands from the sofa and moves away from you, walking towards the bedroom without a single word. You stare at his retreating figure, utterly confused – is he fucking serious?

You are on your feet trudging after him, and as soon as you are in the doorway of the room, you clock him on the bed – resting on his back, arms propped behind his head, and a smug grin on his face as he peers back at you.

“Figured you could use some more space to move,” he says. “You were getting quite erratic.”

You grin at him, crossing to the bed and dropping to your knees at the foot of the mattress. You crawl higher, on your hands and knees, giving Taron your most seductive look as you go. On your journey, you decide to take a risk – you dip your head down towards his thigh, biting along the curve and getting a taste of yourself on his skin. He moans at the feeling, something that is almost shocked, strangled in the back of his throat and he threads his fingers through your hair.

When your bites reach the hem of his shorts, you tug at it with your teeth, adding a playful growl. You bring your head higher up towards his crotch and eye up the way his erection is straining at the fabric of his hot pants. With a soft hum, you trace the outline of him with the tip of your tongue, knowing that the feeling will drive him crazy.

“Jesus.” His gasp turns into a small chuckle, but he grabs the back of your head, urging you higher up his body to get his mouth on yours once more. While you are distracted with the kiss, Taron’s hand falls between your bodies, fingers tracing over you; immediately you realize how sensitive you are from the rough grinding you have been doing. “You love this, don’t you?” he whispers, as he licks the taste of you from his fingers.

You ignore his question and straddle his opposite thigh this time. Setting your hands on Taron’s chest to get support, you start grinding slowly, not applying much pressure to start. Taron’s hands are behind his head again, peering up at you with nothing but lust and adoration.

You press yourself down harder against him, needing to get the friction back from before. Your movements become more fluid as you concentrate on the pleasure you are receiving, all of your arousal dripping from you and running down Taron’s thigh to soak into the sheets.

“You look beautiful like this,” he breathes. “Flushed and desperate. Go on, darling; get it.”

At his words, you are collapsing onto him, clinging onto his shoulders to keep him close as your demand for orgasm begins to overtake you, becoming a necessity. Your movement can only be described as humping, vulgar and needy, no regard for how cheap you undoubtedly looked – you do not care in the slightest.

It is building inside of you, the knot that has been working through your body and you know that it will only take a few more movements before you are unraveling. The slick sound that resonates between your bodies can barely be heard over your moans of pleasure, Taron’s name falling from your lips in gasped breaths. The feeling is unbelievable, and you can feel your muscles catch fire from how violently you grind against him – but your climax is almost there, about to burst.

When it hits, your body trembles, and you bury your face into Taron’s chest to muffle the drawn out groan that you release. You keep rocking against him, harsher and rougher, because even hitting your high is not enough until you are completely melting against him. Hard shudders, shocking jolts in your body and you are finally relaxing on top of Taron, but not letting your thighs stop from clenching his.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Why did that feel so goddamn good?”

“It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Taron’s voice is deep and smooth, filled with desire – you feel his rock hard length pressing against your leg from behind the shorts and you cannot help the small chuckle.

“Take those off,” you breathe, tilting your head up just in time to see the grin spread across his lips.


	3. Morning (Taron)

The light peeks through the space between the curtains, shining onto your face just enough to wake you up. An irritated groan rumbles in your throat, your face scrunching up in displeasure as you roll over onto your stomach. You attempt to drape your arm over your boyfriend, only to be met with an empty bed and cold sheets. The next noise your let out is a quiet whimper, hoping that Taron is nearby to hear your displeasure.

When you hear a chuckle across the room, you open your eyes to peek towards the sound, finding Taron leaning against the door frame grinning at you. He holds rolled up sheets of paper in one hand and a mug in the other; he is dressed in a plain white shirt and a pair of black shorts, his baseball cap already on his head.

“What time is it?” you grumble, closing your eyes.

“Nearly eight,” he says softly, before taking a sip of his drink. You sigh, displeased that you are awake so early, but your anger is interrupted by the feeling of the bed dipping at your side. You open your eyes to see Taron placing his mug and papers on the side table before he sets a hand gently on your back. “Did you sleep alright, darling?” he whispers, fingers softly stroking your back. For a moment, you wish you were shirtless to feel the feather-like touches on your bare skin, but you shake the thought away.

“I did,” you reply. Taron gives you a tired smile, but your eyes are busy taking in the small stubble that is growing along his jaw – your mind starts to wander again. “Why are you awake so early?” you ask, clearing your head of impure thoughts.

“Have to head out soon,” he answers, fingers slowly rubbing your neck. “Costumes and such on set today, Elton’ll be there.”

“How much time do you have? I’m cold.”

“You’re cold?” he asks, his voice teasing. You nod your head as you feel his hand trail down your back once again. He lifts the blanket to peer underneath, and lets out a soft chuckle. “That’s because you’re only wearing a shirt and knickers,” he says, sliding his hand beneath the sheets to gently squeeze your backside. “Turn over, love. I’ll warm you up.”

You roll onto your back, closing your eyes as you settle back into the mattress. You feel Taron’s hand slipping beneath the sheets once again, this time pushing your shirt up your stomach. His fingers dance along your skin only for a moment, then probe past the waistband of your panties. Your response is to spread your thighs to give him more access, and his fingers find your wetness.

“You’re already wet for me,” he whispers, causing your eyes to flutter open. His fingers gently stroke your clit, sending a hum through your whole body. “Did you…” he trails off, letting out a soft sigh when you press yourself against his hand. “What did you dream about last night? I heard you whining in your sleep; was it me that had you so needy?” The gentleness of his voice, sheer quiet curiosity, is what causes your insides to twist. You are not accustomed to such tenderness, as your sexual relationship with Taron is generally more lustful, carnal; this, however, is new – and you love it. “Tell me, darling,” he breathes, fingers still rubbing ever-so slowly on your clit.

“It was you, Taron,” you sigh, closing your eyes once again. “We were…having sex, so slow and so passionate. I was aching for you.” When you look back to Taron, you find him watching you intently, eyes clouded over, but his face calm and focused. It is only when a quiet whimper is pulled from your throat that the corner of Taron’s mouth twitches into a small smirk.

“You’re aching for me right now, too, aren’t you?” His fingers still circle your clit painfully slow, the tingling sensation it gives you spreading through your limbs. His fingers press lower, teasing around your entrance enough to have you wiggling against him. When your clit comes in contact with the heel of his hand, you try to rub to get friction, but Taron tilts his hand back enough to avoid you. “Tell me what you want, darling,” he whispers. “What you need.”

“Taron, please.”

“Is it for me to taste you?” he asks, quietly. “To eat your cunt? Slowly…so soft you barely know I’m there.” Your bottom lip is between your teeth, and you are biting down on it so hard, you fear you will draw blood. “Is that what you need, my sweet girl?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding quickly.

Taron removes his hat and drops it to the floor, pulling his shirt over his head as well. He pulls the covers off of your body long enough to work your panties off, before he is kneeling between your legs, pulling the sheets over his head. He is completely hidden to you, and you cannot see him as he presses his palms against your inner thighs to spread you open.

The only thing that prepares you for him is the split-second that you feel his breath on you before his tongue licks from your entrance to your clit. A sharp gasp pulls into your throat, pressing yourself closer to his face. Taron chuckles quietly, breath once more tickling against your skin.

Swirling his tongue around your entrance for a moment, he catches you off guard when he presses his tongue into you, probing slowly. With a quiet hum, your hand slips beneath the blanket and rub your fingers through his short hair, desperate to get him closer. You can pull his hair only slightly due to the length, but as soon as you do, Taron moans against your heat, his tongue beginning to move faster only for a moment.

“Careful now, love,” he mumbles beneath the blanket, pulling his head back enough to be heard. “If you continue pulling my hair, I’m not responsible for what happens after.”

“Baby, your hair is going to be so different once you start filming,” you whine. “I can’t help it.”

Taron chuckles quietly, pressing his mouth back to your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue so gently that you could barely feel it. His finger begins to trace around your entrance, using the juices to coat his digit so he can slowly push it inside of you. The intrusion makes you moan, your head pushing harder into the pillow as both of your hands grab onto his shoulders.

He begins to suck on your clit, the action somewhat more aggressive than before. His fingers maintain their slow motion, but push in deep, to his knuckles, even curling them inside of you every so often.

“Taron, baby,” you pant, fingers dragging up his neck so you can grab onto his head. He stops his action on your clit, to pull back enough to speak.

“Does it feel good?” he whispers, now teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. His mouth is wide open, and he is panting softly against you while his fingers and tongue work at the same painfully slow pace.

“So good,” you gasp. “Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.”

Taron’s stubble is rubbing harshly against you, a new feeling a rough contrast to the actions of his tongue and fingers. Sucking on your clit again, Taron lets out a moan, trying to maintain his own composure from what he is doing to you. Finally, you feel your orgasm very slowly building in your stomach, walls clenching around his fingers.

The slow movements, the stubble brushing against your skin, the delicate whimpers from your boyfriend beneath the sheets – all of them have you getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are turning into desperate whines, and Taron’s free hand finds one of yours, lacing your fingers together.

Your body begins to quake, thighs trembling and breathy moans falling from your lips. Taron hums against you as your free hand pulls at his hair again, keeping his face close against you. The orgasm is unlike any you have experienced, slowly spreading throughout your entire body and setting your skin alight. All of your muscles tense, your back arching so your hips are pressed harder to his face.

“Oh, God, baby,” you gasp, shaking beneath Taron with your eyes shut tight. As your body begins to relax, though still wracked by waves of shivers, you open your eyes to watch Taron peek his head from underneath the blanket, a wide grin on his wet lips.

“Are you warm now?” he asks, rubbing his face against your inner thigh, stubble scratching your sensitive skin and spreading your dampness along. “Your skin feels quite hot,” he whispers, trailing his tongue along to lick up what had transferred to your thigh. You urge him to climb up from between your thighs, and he slowly makes his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Both of your hands grasp his face, pulling him against you to kiss him deeply and tasting yourself on his tongue.

“I love you, Taron,” you breathe against his lips. He kisses along your jaw, giving a quick bite to your pulse so he can tease you.

“I love you, too, darling,” he whispers. He pulls back from your neck, peering at you with pure love and adoration in his eyes. “As much as I’d love to spend the day in bed with you,” he begins, tracing his finger along your jaw. “I need to meet with Dexter soon.”

“I know,” you reply, sighing.

“Are you going back to sleep once I leave?”

“Maybe after I shower. You wore me out a little bit.” Taron chuckles, kissing you once more before climbing out of the bed.

You do not bother moving, but you watch him collect his belongings and make his way into the bathroom. The sound of the sink running echoes through the room, and you feel yourself beginning to drift off to sleep, but you fight it, desperate to look at Taron once more.

When he exits the bathroom, he steps into his white slides and peers towards you. A faint smile is on his lips, and for a moment, he appears conflicted. He crosses back to you, crouching down beside the bed, to lean in to you.

“When you get home, I’ll return the favor,” you whisper.

“Oh, really?” Taron chuckles, with a wide grin. “That’s not going to make my day go by any faster, you know.”

“At least it will give you something to look forward to.”


	4. Wishlist (Taron)

The noise of your party grew louder with each passing second, causing a dull ache at the base of your head that slowly creeps up into your ears. More than anything, you wish for the party to end, but you know that it is not a possibility. Instead, you continue to sip slowly on your drink, trying to focus on anything but the noise.

“Hello, lovely.” You quickly recognize the voice of your best friend, and turn to your side to see him walking towards you with a wide grin. A small, excited shriek rings from your throat as you dash to meet him, allowing him to pull you into a warm embrace. “Happy birthday,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I can’t believe you actually showed up,” you mutter against his shoulder. “I thought you were busy filming this weekend.”

“Ye of little faith,” he chuckles, pulling back to look at your face. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me from your birthday, darling.” You feel yourself blush only slightly at his statement, and quickly attempt to hide it by taking a long sip from your cup. “I have your gift,” he says, holding up a small bag that you reach to grab, only to have him pull it from your reach. “Ah-ah! Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Taron takes your hand, leading you towards the front door of the house and out into the front garden. You follow behind him, paying too much attention to the way his fingers are laced with yours, until you reach the wooden swing where you both take your seats. You hold your hand out towards Taron, staring at him expectantly.

“What is it?” he asks, with a smirk; you do not respond, only thrust your hand closer towards him with a chuckle. “Oh, you want your present, is that it?”

“I think I’m entitled to it.”

“Do you recall when you shared your wishlist with me last year?” he asks. “You told me you were sick of getting gifts you didn’t want, so you emailed me your wishlist.”

“That’s right.”

“You’ve added quite a bit to it since then,” he continues, looking out across the garden as he speaks. “But you neglected to clean out some of the older items.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to discern what he is referring to, but the cheeky grin that spreads across his lips tells you that it cannot be appropriate. “You…” he pauses to chuckle quietly. “Did you know you added a dildo on your Amazon wishlist?” Your eyes go wide and your heart rate quickens – embarrassed is an understatement when it comes to what you are feeling.

“I didn’t mean to…no.”

“You know that I have a cock, right?” he smirks. “And I’m certain that it will feel better than a piece of rubber with a suction cup.” He places the small bag in your lap, staring at you as you slowly pull the item from the paper, discovering it to be a box of condoms. “Feel like giving it a go?”


	5. Gift (Taron)

Taron crashes into the snow for the fifth time that day, and all you can do is laugh. Each time he gets up, dusting the snow off of his clothing and straightening his glasses so he can deliver his line, a smile spreads wider across his face. You cannot wrap your head around how sweet he is in his role of Eddie Edwards, and find it to be a refreshing break from the life of Eggsy.

‘Cut’ echoes through the air, and you cross your arms over your chest as Taron trudges through the snow towards the video village where you stood with the crew. He winks at you from behind his glasses, giving a goofy grin to go along with it, before he focuses on the monitor along with Dexter.

“I think we’ll go with that take,” Dexter says, patting Taron on the back.

“Cheers, mate,” Taron says, shaking his hand and turning towards you. He playfully wiggles his shoulders as he makes his way to you, and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in for a gentle kiss. When your head bumps against the goggles that are pushed onto his helmet, you grunt quietly, breaking the kiss. “Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, removing his helmet to reveal his fluffy hair that you have started to enjoy more than you expected to. “Is that better?”

“You still have the glasses on,” you say, with a chuckle at the sight of his wide eyes behind the lenses. “But that’s alright.” You lean back in for another soft kiss, and he sighs contentedly against your lips, arms tightening around your body. “You’re so cute, do you know that?” you ask when you break from his mouth.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my love,” he chuckles, glancing to make certain no one was in earshot before he removes his glasses. “But if you put on that skirt that I like, and forget to wear anything under it, that might get you somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah? Like where?”

“Tied to my bed while I’m on top of you,” he whispers.

“Jesus, Taron,” you shudder. “How can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” Taron grins for a moment, then slips his glasses back onto his face, switching back into character.

“It’s a gift.”


	6. Pool (Taron)

You stand on the opposite side of the room, keeping away from Taron so not distract him from his photoshoot. He leans over the pool table, lining up the pool cue for a shot but remains still, to allow the photographer to snap a picture of him. You stifle a laugh as Taron pulls one of his many self described ‘smoldering’ gazes, and the camera snaps a few more times to capture the new pose.

Something always strikes you when get the opportunity to watch him during a photoshoot. He stays focused with each shot, his charm and sex appeal on display for everyone – however, as soon as it is time to move on for a wardrobe change, he slips back into the casual and goofy Taron that you fell in love with first.

While you watch, Taron walks to the opposite side shooting you a quick wink as he props himself on the edge of the table, listening to the directions the photographer gives him. As he is distracted, you let your eyes wander his body: the brown jacket that fits him snugly and the jeans that hug his backside and thighs so perfectly that you cannot help but stare.

In the moment, you get lost in your thoughts. You think about how Taron’s hands feel on your hips when he is caught up in his desire, the pressure his fingers place on your skin hurting so perfectly right that you can feel it in that second. More than anything, you want to tell the cameras to get lost so you can have Taron hoist you up onto the edge of the pool table so he can have his way with you.

A sudden bright flash throughout the room pulls you from your thoughts, and you focus on the entirety of the room, trying to play off the fact that you are blushing furiously. When your eyes fall to Taron’s face, you see his gaze on you already, a wide grin on his lips – as soon as he shoots a quick wink at you, it is obvious that he caught you staring.

The photographer calls for a break soon after, and Taron sets the pool cut onto the table before he makes his way towards you. The blush quickly returns to your cheeks, and you break eye contact with him, staring at the floor; Taron stops in front of you, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your head back up.

“Maybe I’m mistaken,” he begins, quietly. “But did I see you look me up and down…and bite your lip?” You chuckle nervously, pulling your lip between your teeth again as you give him your most innocent look. “Because if you did,” he continues. “Then we’re having sex…right now.”

“Taron,” you mutter. “There’s nowhere to–”

“Table,” he interrupts, trailing one finger down your throat to hook in the collar of your shirt and pull you closer. “I can tell from the look in your eyes, darling. You want me to take you over the edge of it, isn’t that right?”

“On top of it,” you breathe, eyes locked in with his. Taron chuckles quietly, leaning towards you to press a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. One of his hands pushes your thighs apart, sliding up the inside of your thigh so he can brush his knuckles over your damp panties. “Oh, god,” you gasp, taking hold of his wrist to stop him before someone notices.

“Give me ten minutes,” he whispers. “I’ll get rid of everyone. I want you on the table, panties off, and legs spread wide.”


	7. Terror (Taron)

Night terrors. You began having them very early on in life, but kept them secret for as long as you possibly could. Off-and-on for years, you would awaken in hysterical crying, or sometimes screams, the visions your mind play out for your becoming so real that you can feel them. The scariest part of all is the residual effect; you can feel it in your bones for the rest of the day, scraping through your body with a tremble that you cannot shake.

Over the course of the year and a half that you have been involved with Taron, you have been fortunate enough not to experience a terror while in the same bed as him. Due to this, you opted not to speak about them at all, leaving you to suffer in silence on the lonely nights that you did wake up in a panic.

Tonight, however, you break the streak of restful nights. With a sharp gasp, your eyes fly open, and you lose your breath, your fingers grasping for anything they can find. Quickly, you sit up, letting out a sob, as you feel the tears stinging at your eyes; your body is suddenly hit with hard tremors, the quake hitting your throat, causing you to release a helpless whine that you do not expect.

“Darling?” Taron’s raspy voice echoes through your head, but you cannot find him, your vision fuzzy and your mind flooded with the visions that you just experienced in your head. “Darling, what’s wrong?” he speaks again, closer this time, more panicked and you feel his hand press to your back. You cannot speak, but begin to hyperventilate, your cries overtaking you.

“Taron,” is all you can manage, and even that is a struggle. Your voice does not sound like your own, weaker than you have ever heard before.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” he says, quickly, his voice sounding almost warped as your head reels and your eyes squeeze shut.

You do not feel the bed shake with his movements, your body quivering enough on its own to sense anything else, but suddenly, you feel his thighs on either side of your body. One of his hands takes hold of yours, threading your fingers, while his other sets just above your breasts, pulling you so your back is against his chest.

“Feel my heartbeat?” he asks, keeping his voice calm. “My breath? Focus on how my skin feels against yours.” Your grip on his hand tightens, your thumb rubbing against his skin. “You’re here with me,” he whispers in your ear. “You’re safe, nothing can hurt you.” Focusing on Taron’s words, you can feel his breath tickling your neck with each syllable he speaks. “Breathe along with me, okay, my darling?” He presses harder to your chest, breathing deliberately hard and steady so you can feel him.

“Taron.” Your voice is slightly stronger, but still trembles, your free hand grabbing onto his bare thigh and rubbing to get more sensations to ground you.

“Shh, you’re safe,” he whispers, kissing your neck. “I won’t let you go.”

A chill runs through your body as you finally begin to focus, feeling yourself breathing steadily in time with Taron. Opening your eyes, your vision begins to clear, and the details of the room around you become more distinct. There is still an obvious tremble to your body, a scraping within your bones as the remnants of your terror tell you that they are still there.

“There you go,” he mumbles. “I’ve got you.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you choke out, some residual tears rolling from your eyes.

“No, no, my love,” he replies, softly as he now holds both of your hands. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You turn your head to the side, in an effort to get a glimpse of him, but you feel him press a kiss to your temple then another to your cheek. “Are you feeling a bit better?” he asks, gently.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Taron hums softly, and – much to your dismay – he slips from behind you, grabbing the bottle of water from the bedside table and opening the cap. He holds the bottle to you, but as he notices the evident tremble that still hits your body, he brings the bottle to your lips to assist you. Finally, he sets the bottle down once again and eases you back onto the pillows, before slipping into bed beside you.

You are on your back, staring deep into his eyes as he settles onto his side next to you. He lets out a small sigh, his lips pulling up into a warm, tender smile. You flinch slightly when he reaches to wipe the remainder of your tears away with the pad of his thumb, and you wait for the inevitable – you know he will want to know what happened.

“I love you,” he says, quietly.

“I love you, too.”

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” he whispers, hand now gently stroking your cheek. “Will that help you fall asleep again, darling?” You have never heard his voice so loving and tranquil, and it becomes clear that his focus is solely on keeping you calm.

“Please,” you answer, with a hypnotized nod of your head. Taron smiles again, and you feel your heart flutter at the look of pure adoration he gives.

“Of course. Anything for you, my darling.”


	8. Cuddle (Eggsy)

You and Eggsy were best friends. Flatmates. As much as it bothered you, there was nothing more between you. At least from his side. How could you not have feelings for someone who is so kind and loving, not to mention sexy.

Ever since you realized that you had feelings for Eggsy that were more than platonic, the cute moments that you would share left you blushing and anxious for more contact. It was only as simple as hugs, kisses on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder – but when he was close to you, all you wanted was to hold him close and not let him go.

It has been a month since you have seen Eggsy. He is coming home tonight, and you are making every effort to keep yourself awake in anticipation, desperate to see him. By the time he is walking into your room to tell you he is home, you are drifting off; Eggsy chuckles quietly and decides to rouse you.

“I’m home, love,” he says, as he crouches down beside your bed. In your exhausted state, you smile lazily at the way his voice sounds, and you allow your eyes to flutter open enough to look at his face. “I know you would’ve had my head if I didn’t wake you up,” he whispers, a soft smile spreading across his lips.

“I missed you, E,” you respond, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh. “Come sleep by me; keep me warm.” He does not answer you, and immediately, you realize what you asked him. You open your eyes, finding him still smiling at you. “You don’t have to,” you say.

“Scoot over,” he nods, as he stands again. You hum softly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you think about what is about to happen: you had never slept in the same bed as Eggsy before.

With your eyes closed, you roll onto your side and shift yourself back towards the other side of the bed to allow space for Eggsy. You can hear him moving around, and you assume that he is undressing – which only twists your nerves more as you think of it. Slowly, you open your eyes to look up at Eggsy, finding him stripping down to his briefs. He stops, looking down at you with a soft gaze as he neatly hangs his slacks on a hanger.

“Come on,” you whisper, flipping the covers back and patting the mattress. He smiles wider, and takes a step to hang the clothing on the door hook. As he turns his back, you notice the marks on his back – you are awake at the sight, sitting up to get a better look at him. “Eggsy,” you say. “Your back.”

“What?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder to try and get a glimpse of what you are speaking of.

“You’re all busted up,” you say. “You have welts and deep bruises all over your back.” He sighs quietly, shrugging his shoulders as he crosses towards your bed. “Sit down,” you whisper. He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, keeping his back to you and giving you a better look.

Dark, fresh bruises are spread sporadically from his shoulders to his sides, down to his lower back. There are small welts near the bruises, as well as a few small cuts that have already begun to heal. You let out a sigh that nearly has a whine to it, as you carefully reach out to gently graze your fingers over the marks. Eggsy inhales sharply at the contact, and you recoil.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Startled me, is all,” he replies. “Go on.” He straightens his back and relaxes his shoulders to welcome your touch this time. You reach out and trace your fingers over the bruise near his shoulder blade, listening for the change in Eggsy’s breathing.

“It doesn’t hurt?” you ask.

“Nah, it’s alright,” he nods. You sit up onto your knees behind his back and continue your path with both hands. You caress his skin, a gentle brush of your fingertips over each and every injury that raises goosebumps over the expanse of his back.

You decide to take a chance, your interests getting the better of you. With a steady intake of breath, you dip your head towards Eggsy and press a tender kiss to his bruise. The man rolls his head to the side and hums quietly, not stopping you as you continue to kiss along his shoulder blades.

One of your hands sets carefully on top of his shoulder, fingertips barely coming in contact with his collarbone. Your hand only sets for a moment before Eggsy grazes his cheek against it as he turns his head to the side. His lips brush against your fingers and he exhales softly against your hand.

When he gently whispers your name, your heart skips a beat, and in the next moment, he is grasping your hand and pulling your arm to wrap around his body. You hook both arms around him and tentatively squeeze him to you, feeling the way one of his hands holds onto your forearm.

You stay like that for a moment, your cheek resting against his back and your arms holding onto him as if it will be your last chance. Eggsy’s breathing is steady, but as you press the palm of your hand to his bare chest, you can feel his heartbeat.

“Was scared I wouldn’t make it back to ya,” he whispers. “Thought I’d die without bein’ able to give you that kiss you’ve been after for years.” You chuckle quietly, and Eggsy wiggles in your grasp as your breath tickles his back. “You wasn’t any good at hiding that, love,” he whispers, taking one of your hands and lifting it to his mouth so he could kiss it. “I’ve known for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you inquire.

“Needed the right moment,” he says, gently removing your arms from around him and turning in the bed to face you. “But I finally found it.” He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand hooking under your chin to keep you held close. He makes no effort to deepen the kiss, only shares several tender kisses before pulling back to peer into your eyes. “How about I hold you, now?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over your lips. “It’ll be the safest I’ve felt in weeks.”

“I’d love that,” you whisper.

You scoot back to your original position under the covers and watch Eggsy turn off the bedside lamp before joining you. As soon as he is settled, he pulls you into his arms, keeping you at enough of a distance that he can look into your eyes. You set your hands against his chest, and one of your legs hooks over his, dragging it closer to get caught in a tangle of limbs. He chuckles quietly, brushing your hair off of your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Always have, always will.”

“I love you, too,” you reply, your voice cracking.

“Good,” he nods, snuggling closer so your head could rest against his chest. “In the morning, we can talk about it…now, all I want is this right here.”


	9. Drunk (Eggsy)

A loud clatter from the foyer pulls you from your sleep. You jump from the bed, searching around the room for anything that you can use to defend yourself. Recalling that there was a baseball bat in the closet, you quickly cross the room, quietly sliding open the pocket door and grabbing your weapon.

Another noise echoes through the hallway from the front of your house, so you grip the bat tighter, keeping cocked back as you slowly creep out of the door. Getting closer and closer to the front door, you can hear some scraping, along with a hushed speaking that you cannot understand. Reaching the corner of the hallway leading into the foyer, you rest your back against the wall for a moment and draw in a deep breath to calm your nerves. In one quick motion, you flip on the entryway light and spin around to face the now illuminated foyer, your bat pulled back in preparation for an attack.

Eggsy is knelt on the floor staring up at you with his eyes widened in surprise. His hands, covered in dirt, are held in the air as a sign of surrender. On the floor beside him lies your peace lily that you kept on the entryway table, the pot shattered and soil spread across the floor. You can discern from the trails his fingers left in the dirt that Eggsy was trying desperately to clean up the mess he had made, but did nothing more than form a small pile and get the majority of it on his hands and jeans.

“Eggsy, what the fuck?” you ask, lowering your arms to the side and staring down at him.

“Love,” he replies, breathlessly, looking back at the mess before him.“I ruined your plant; I’m really sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” you ask, leaning the bat against the wall and moving in closer to your boyfriend. When he looks back up to you, there is a distinct flush to his cheeks and his eyelids are heavy, but he attempts to play it off by shaking his head and scoffing at you.

“Drunk? No, I ain’t drunk.”

“Eggsy,” you sigh, holding your hands out to him. “Stand up.” He takes your hands, allowing you to help him to his feet, yet he looks back to the mess on the floor with a sigh.

“Sorry I killed your plant.”

“Look at me,” you say, catching his attention. Now you can notice that he has managed to transfer some of the dirt to his face; you laugh softly and brush it away from his nose and cheek. “Had a good night out with the lads?” you ask. “Thought you’d come home and tear down the foyer?”

“I fell,” he explains.

“I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

“Good,” he breathes, quickly leaning in to press his lips to yours.

“Mmm!” you exclaim against his mouth, grabbing onto his biceps and forcing him back from you. “Eggsy, what are you doing?”

“Kissin’ you,” he mutters. “Thought it was obvious.” He tries to move back towards you for another kiss, but you once again push him back, much to his dismay. “Love,” he whispers. “C’mon, lemme kiss you. All I could think about tonight was comin’ home to give you some of this.” He punctuates his statement by grinding his hips against you for a moment.

“‘Some of this’?” you echo, with a laugh. “Wow, you’re lame when you’re drunk.”

“Look, I ain’t at a hundred percent, alright. I’ll give ya that…but I just want to love on my girl a bit. What’s wrong with that?”

This time, when Eggsy dips his head closer, you do not deny him but give him the opportunity to kiss you. His lips are inexplicably soft against yours, his tongue desperately forcing into your mouth to touch yours. You cannot help but whimper softly at the way he kisses you, and the taste of hard liquor on him. His hands are on your hips, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall. He grinds against you, allowing you to feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

“Fuck, Eggsy,” you gasp, breaking from the kiss.

“Need you so bad, babe,” he mumbles, now kissing along your neck. “Me and the boys was playin’ snooker, and I got hard thinkin’ about fuckin’ you on that bloody table.” He bites your skin harder than you expect him to, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. “Sexy little noises you make,” he mutters. “C’mere.”

Eggsy stoops slightly, grasping your thighs and hoisting you into his arms. You hurry to steady yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders and hooking your ankles behind his back. As he begins to walk you back to the bedroom, his steps falter, and you feel him begin to stumble slightly.

“Eggsy!” you yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders completely and pressing harder to him to avoid falling.

“Steady, love. I ain’t gonna drop you.”

Once you are in the bedroom, Eggsy sets you onto the bed, taking a step back to look at you through half lidded eyes. You scoot higher onto the bed as you peer up at him, beginning to feel your body heat up from your arousal. Eggsy snatches his hat off of his head and drags his jacket from his arms, dropping them both to the floor. As you continue to watch him, it becomes clear just how intoxicated he is. With each move he stumbles, and as he tries to remove his shoes, he nearly falls over completely.

“Eggsy,” you say, watching him drop forward onto the bed, rolling onto his side as he still struggles with the same shoe. “Eggsy, babe, you’re really drunk right now.” For a moment, he stops his actions, and tips his head back to look at you upside down. When a gentle smile spreads over your lips, Eggsy sighs, letting go of his shoe and relaxing flat on the bed.

“Yeah, ‘spose you’re right,” he mutters. “I’m…pissed.”

“I know, baby,” you laugh softly, climbing out of bed and making your way around to stand in front of him. He watches you carefully remove his shoes, throwing them out of the way before you begin to unbutton his pants.

“I’m never drinkin’ that much again.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” you chuckle, as Eggsy maneuvers where you can pull his jeans from his legs. “Under the sheets.” Eggsy nods slowly, rolling onto his stomach and lazily climbing towards the head of the bed. As you clean up the clothes he had strewn around the floor, you give him quick glances to make certain he is getting comfortable.

“I’m gonna fuck you in the morning, love.”

“Oh, really?” you chuckle, as you pull back the sheets enough to join Eggsy beneath them. “Is that a threat?”

“Nah, it’s a promise,” he nods, his eyes closed and a lazy smile on his lips. “G’night, babe.”


	10. Blue (Eggsy)

Blue has always been Eggsy’s favorite color. You recall the day he mentioned it to you: it was springtime, and he had forced you to join him at a banquet for work. You wore a mermaid gown, robin’s egg blue with crystal embellishments and sheer long sleeves, and Eggsy complimented you all night.

“How did you know blue’s my favorite color, love? You look gorgeous.”

Since that day, this was something you had been planning: make your best effort to surprise the man that you have been lusting after since you had met years prior. It needed to be something brash, and incredible – something that would stop him dead in his tracks, make him drop his jaw, and fill him with the same desire that you feel for him. 

Lace was not a material that you sought out, generally finding it to be itchy; however, the thong and matching corset bra did not irritate your skin as you expected. Looking at your reflection, you crack a smile, finding yourself proud of how you look in the lingerie that you had picked out just for Eggsy. Hopefully he likes electric blue.

You choose to present yourself to him by perching on his favorite armchair. Sitting on the top of the chair, you place your feet on the armrests so you are fully on display for when he arrives home. The wait is nearly excruciating, but you hope that it will be worth it.

The lock clicks at the front door and you hear it squeak open. Heart pounding in your ears, you press your hands on the chair at your sides, spreading your legs wider and puffing your chest. Eggsy rounds the corner, looking down at his phone but the moment he glances up, finding you presenting yourself to him, he freezes, eyes wide.

There is silence for a moment, both of you staring at one another, waiting for whatever comes next. You notice Eggsy swallow hard, clenching his jaw tightly as his eyes navigate over your body.

“D’you know blue’s my favorite color?” he whispers, taking slow steps towards you. With a grin, you nod your head, which makes Eggsy hum in response. “Think I like it even more now,” he speaks. “You look delicious.”

“Then come have a taste.” You push your hips out further, an action not lost on Eggsy as he kneels onto the seat of the chair so he can settle between your spread thighs.

“Ya’know,” he begins, dragging one finger over the crotch of your panties. “Your mum and dad would be mortified if they could see you dressed like this…but even more if they knew what I was thinkin’ of doing to their little girl.” You bite your lip, peering down into his eyes as his fingers trail along your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” he whispers, leaning in and tracing his tongue over you through your panties. “I fuckin’ love blue.”


	11. Waves (Eggsy)

“I can’t believe you ain’t never been to Brighton Beach before,” Eggsy laughs, relaxing back into his beach chair and closing his eyes. You shrug your shoulders, slipping your shirt and shorts off so you are standing in just your bikini. You take a seat in your chair beside him and slipping your sunglasses onto your face, and let out a sigh.

“It never appealed to me,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. Eggsy’s eyes are already on you, hand raising his sunglasses so he can peer at you – his eyes are all over your body, which is not a surprise to you in the slightest. “This is the only reason you talked me into coming here,” you say. “So you could ogle me in public, isn’t that right, you fuckin’ creep?”

“Course not!” he retorts. “Needed some sun, s’all.” He pauses, running his tongue over his lips as he stares into your eyes once again. “Seein’ you with your tits out like this is a bonus,” he adds, slipping his glasses over his eyes again. “Ya’know, I was thinkin’, since it’s your first time…”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I should show you the pier,” he continues, with a laugh, as he hoists himself up from the chair.

“But I just got comfortable,” you groan. Eggsy grabs your hands, yanking you out of your chair hard enough to pull your body against his. With your breasts pressed to his bare chest, you feel your cheeks flush – even after being with Eggsy for nearly a year, you still get nervous when you get too close to him. “Eggsy,” you warn.

“C’mon, love,” he chuckles, taking your hand and pulling you along with him.

When you reach the pier, the atmosphere is altered by a salty breeze rolling through and the small waves that hit the rocks. The temperature feels different as well, you notice quickly, as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the small chill, but Eggsy notices immediately.

“Cold?” he asks, taking your sunglasses off and slipping them into the pocket of his trunks. He sets his hands on your arms, rubbing softly to create friction.

“Kinda thought we were gonna go on the pier,” you say. “Not under it.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit more private under here,” he whispers, guiding you backwards until you are pressed against a post. “Least for what I wanna do.” He dips his head down to kiss you passionately, threading your fingers with his – Eggsy loves taking hold of your hands so firmly in an effort to keep you from touching him and ultimately giving him full control. He grunts softly as he presses his hips against you, grinding hard enough for you to feel his erection.

“Eggsy, someone is gonna see us,” you mutter, turning your head away, and feeling the chill of the wind on your now flushed face.

“They ain’ payin’ us any mind, love,” he chuckles, letting go of your hands and dragging his fingers over your sides. Against your better judgement, you lean into his touch, and place your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. “C’mon,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your neck as one hand slides between your legs. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would even notice.”

“Eggsy,” you whimper, feeling his fingers brush against your folds over your bikini.

“Sound of the waves’ll drown out them beautiful moans,” he continues, giving your skin a gentle bite. “What d’ya say? Promise I’ll take real good care of you.” When he tips his head back to look into your eyes, the cheeky grin spread across his lips makes you weak in the knees, your desire finally getting the better of you.


	12. Attention (Eggsy)

Eggsy has been ignoring you all day, opting to play on Xbox Live with his friends instead. You do not wish to nag him, or beg him to spend time with you; however, listening to the anger in his voice as his team begins to lose, you feel a tightening in your stomach. As much as you hate to admit it, you find something vastly appealing about Eggsy when he is angry.

You quickly develop an idea, heading into your bedroom, you change into the expensive lingerie Eggsy purchased you for your birthday – you swore you would save it for a special occasion but now seems like an ideal situation to test it out. You grab a pair of Eggsy’s basketball shorts and a t-shirt, slipping them on over the lingerie to keep it hidden from your boyfriend’s view as long as you can.

“Eggsy,” you say, entering the sitting room again. “Babe, why don’t you take a break for a little while, hang out with me?” At first, Eggsy does not answer, too busy keeping his attention on the game to acknowledge your presence, but after a moment, he gives a very quick glance towards you before immediately back to the screen.

“What did ya say?” he asks. “Fuck, Brandon! You’re s’pose to be coverin’ me, mate! Where the fuck were you?!” You jump slightly when he exclaims, but close your eyes and let out a sigh, focusing on the task at hand. “Whatcha need, babe?” Eggsy asks, catching your attention.

“I said I want to hang out,” you say. “Can’t you just play the game later?”

“Nah, babe, we’re in the middle of a campaign,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s really–oh, fuck yeah, bruv! That’s it!”

You decide to take more drastic steps to get his full attention, so you cross towards him, straddling his lap. Eggsy leans slightly to see past you, shifting to wrap his arms around you, still holding the controller behind your back. To your frustration, he does not take his eyes off of the game. With a sigh, you press the mute button on his headset and lean in closer.

“C’mon, Eggsy,” you whine. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that right?” he asks, his voice only slightly hinting amusement, but still not tearing his eyes from the game. “Look, babe, just lemme finish this match, and I swear I’ll eat you out until you come at least three times. Sound fair?”

With a scoff, you move from Eggsy’s grasp, ignoring his annoyed grumble as you almost knock the controller from his grasp. Taking a few steps away from him, you slide the shorts down your legs, kicking them off of your feet, before yanking the shirt over your head and throwing it to the side. You stand there for a moment, hands on your hips as you wait for Eggsy to notice, and when he finally looks towards you, he double takes, his lips parting and his eyes going wide. You try to hide the smirk on your lips as he fumbles to unmute the headset as fast as he can.

“Uh, guys,” he says into the microphone, not taking his eyes off of you now. “I gotta go. Somethin’ just came up.”


	13. Suit (Eggsy)

It was your first morning waking up beside Eggsy in the bed you now share. A few weeks prior, just shy of eight months together, Eggsy asked you to move in with him, and now you, stand in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes after you made breakfast. The look on your boyfriend’s face was priceless, as though he had never woken to a good, home-cooked meal in his life. While he ate, he tried to keep his eyes on you, shoveling food into his smiling face, mumbling about how much he loves you.

You place one of the plates in a drying rack before continuing on with the next dish, humming a tune to yourself. For a brief moment, you want to laugh at your current housewife routine, but instead you smile, realizing how you enjoy the thought. Eggsy is the one you see yourself spending the rest of your life with.

Thinking about your possible future with Eggsy, you are too distracted to hear him entering the kitchen. Even as he slowly makes his way behind you, it is not until he leans in to press a kiss to your neck that you jump slightly, and let out a gasp.

“Mmm,” he hums, slipping his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and holding on to your hips. “Gotta get used to seeing you walk ‘round here in my clothes.” Eggsy’s fingers tease along the waistband of the boxer shorts you stole from him. “Sexy,” he whispers, placing another kiss to your neck, this one just below your jaw. You giggle softly, nudging your head against his while pressing your backside against his crotch. “Ooh, you little tease,” he mumbles, pushing you forward to pin you against the counter.

“Ya’know, I think you look better in these boxers than I do,” you mumble, shutting off the water and reaching for the towel. “But I think it’s because they make your ass look big.”

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles against your ear, nipping at your earlobe. To prove your point, you cock your arm back to reach behind him, and playfully slapping him on his backside. “Oi!” he exclaims, grabbing your wrist and laughing loudly. “I’m the one who does the spankin’ in this relationship, let’s get that straight up front.”

“Yes, sir,” you laugh.

“Good girl,” he mutters, kissing your neck again before he pulls away.

You turn from the sink so you can face him finally, and your jaw nearly drops at the sight. Eggsy is wearing a beautiful blue pinstripe suit, tailored so perfectly to fit every inch of his body unlike you have ever seen before. He straightens out his tie as he looks at himself in the mirror across the room, but as he catches your reflection, he grins widely, turning to look at you.

“What is it?” he asks, sincerely. “It looks alright?”

“Are you trying to turn me on right now, or are you that oblivious?” you ask, clenching your legs together as you brace yourself back against the sink. The smirk slowly creeps across his lips as he realizes what he has done to you.

“That’s right…you ain’t seen me in a suit yet, have ya? This is your first look.” He holds the sides of his jacket away from his body for a moment to let you get a glimpse of his crisp dress shirt tucked into his slacks, before he does a small spin to give you a look of the back as well. “D’ya like it?” he asks, facing you once again.

“You look…” you trail off, realizing you had forgotten to breathe. Quickly, you pull in a breath, dry and stuttered, which only pulls a laugh from your boyfriend as he closes in on you.

“Look what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to catch your gaze when he finally reaches you. Swallowing hard, you try to press against the sink as hard as you can, but Eggsy sets his hands on either side of you, gripping the counter to box you in. “Go on,” he whispers. “You can tell me, love.”

“You look…so fucking tempting…and delicious.”

“God,” he chuckles. “I bet you want a taste, hm?” You nod slowly, your mind racing with a million different scenarios of what Eggsy can do to you while wearing the suit. “How ‘bout this,” he begins, pressing his hips against yours to let you feel his erection against your thigh. “I got some meetings today…I’ll knock ‘em out, quick as I can…and when I get back, I’ll take care of this wet cunt you got.” He pauses, leaning his head in so his lips are directly next to your ear. “And I’ll even keep the suit on.”


	14. Breeze (Eggsy)

You wasted six months of your life with a man who cheated on you from day one. It took you much longer than it should have to see the signs: always keeping his phone away from you, frequent showers before and after intimacy, constantly leaving to ‘take care of things’ at work. Your friends warned you that there were too many red flags, but you did not see them, or maybe you refused to see them. It took you catching him in the act – in your own bed, no less – to find out the truth about him.

You were in a blind rage, and though it was not your finest moment, throwing your lying boyfriend and his ‘friend’ out the front door without their clothes felt oddly rewarding. Though, it did not stop you from breaking down into tears moments later, as you gather up all of the things he left around your flat, stuffing it into the trash bin as quickly as you could.

Fast-forward to your current situation: three weeks have gone by since you caught your boyfriend in the act of infidelity, and you are sitting at a party that your best friend, Eggsy, insisted you attend. No one bothers to speak to you, unsurprisingly, and you chalk it up to your slightly more agitated state after what everyone so kindly refers to as ‘the incident’.

You sit quietly on the sofa, throwing back a sip of your drink to finish off the cup, then hoisting yourself up and make your way towards the front door to get some air. On your way, you clock Eggsy across the room, chatting with a girl you did not recognize, but as he notices you, he breaks away from the girl, making a beeline towards you.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks, following closely behind you as you pull the front door open. You shrug your shoulders, not looking at him as you pull in a breath of the brisk night air.

“No one wants to talk to me,” you mutter, resting your back against the railing to watch Eggsy close the door behind him. “They don’t want me here. I’m like Eeyore.”

“You’re cuter than Eeyore,” he chuckles. You shake your head, fighting the urge to smile at the effort that Eggsy puts towards trying to cheer you up. “Besides, who cares what them dickheads think?” he asks, gesturing to the flat behind him. “I want you to be here, that’s what matters most, innit?”

“Think so?”

“Know so,” he replies, taking a step towards you, glancing around the breezeway to make certain it is clear. “You gotta get that prick outta your head. He ain’t worth all the fuckin’ energy you put into hatin’ him, so maybe you could put that effort into somethin’ else, yeah?”

“Like what?”

“Me, maybe?” he suggests, with a cheeky grin. Staring back at him, you cross your arms over your chest, and narrow your eyes. “C’mon, love,” he chuckles. “We been mates for like two decades, and I been wanting to fuck you for half of that. I know you could see that.” You sigh, feeling your cheeks redden slightly at his admission – and at the fact that he is right, you do know that he has tried chatting you up on more occasions than you can recall. “So, whenever you think you’re done cryin’ over some piece of shit that never even deserved you,” he says, closing in on you and grabbing onto the railing on either side of you. “Lemme know. ‘Cause I can fuck you so hard, you’ll forget you ever met that prick.”

You let out a small, stuttered noise that you intended to be his name, dropping your arms to your side. Eggsy smirks at you, leaning his head closer towards you and pausing for a moment. When you make no effort to shove him away, he presses a kiss to your lips, and uses the railing to pull his body closer to you, pinning you hard against the railing. You keep your hands at your sides and do not immediately kiss him back, almost twenty years of passion behind Eggsy’s kiss enough to make your knees buckle.

Finally, when Eggsy pulls away, letting out a small sigh and looking into your eyes, you stare at him with a blank expression. After a moment, Eggsy chuckles, beginning to pull away entirely, but you grab him by his hips, yanking him against you once again and kissing him hard. You feel him chuckle against your lips, taking hold of the railing again to keep himself steady. When your hands begin to roam over his body, cupping him through his jeans, Eggsy gasps softly, breaking the kiss.

Eggsy glances between your bodies at your hand that still begins to rub him, and says, “Looks like I’m gonna get lucky tonight, hm?”


	15. Clean (Eggsy)

You had a long shift at work, and you attempted to ease your stress by texting Eggsy for support, which he was more than willing to give you. Simple jokes, selfies of silly faces, and loving compliments had your phone constantly in your hand, allowing the day to go by much quicker than usual.

Before you have the opportunity to leave work, Eggsy sends you one more text, telling you that he had done some minor repairs at his flat and wanted you to stop by to take a look. Ordinarily, after the day you had, you would tell him that you were too tired for the bus ride to his flat, but something in the way he words his text piques your interest. You tell him yes, and begin the walk to the bus stop.

Finally, you are walking up the steps to Eggsy’s flat, finding the door to be locked when you try to enter. With a sigh, you unlock it with your key, and enter the flat, Eggsy nowhere to be found. Muttering to yourself about how your boyfriend neglected to inform you of his absence from the flat, you toss your bag onto the floor beside the sofa, opting to take a shower to waste time and alleviate some of your stress.

“Might as well,” you mutter, unzipping your hoodie and throwing it onto the sofa.

As you stand in the bathroom, removing all of your clothes, you notice that Eggsy had done some of his repairs in the shower. He had replaced a few tiles, added a nicer door, and even installed a new shower head and rain shower combo. You chuckle softly, turning the tap on and watch the intensity with which the water flows from the detachable shower head, and rains down from the stationary one.

Watching the water for a moment, you recall telling Eggsy that you had an interest in this type of shower combo, and cannot help but smile at the thought of him remembering. You carefully enter the shower, pulling the door closed behind you. Immediately, the water raining down on you in the new setup feels better than you ever imagined, the right amount of pressure and a brand new sensation of the wider spread of water.

“Oh, man,” you mumble, tipping your head back beneath the water, letting it wash over you.

It does not take long for the idea to form in your head, and before you realize it, you are pulling the shower head from the hook, adjusting it to the massage setting. Licking your lips, you prop one of your feet onto the shower ledge, and lower the shower head between your thighs. As soon as the water comes in contact with your clit, at the exact correct pressure that you hoped, you let out a gasp, closing your eyes.

“Fuck,” you whisper, shifting your thighs further apart the aim the water at a better angle.

You try to focus on the feeling, the growing sensation of arousal building up within you already, and you begin to have visions of Eggsy to aid the process. Eggsy with his hat on, Eggsy touching himself, Eggsy touching you. Shirtless Eggsy, only wearing his tight boxer briefs, kneeling between your thighs as he uses his mouth to get you to your climax. You can feel it building within you, and you are too focused on your approaching orgasm to realize how loud you moan your boyfriend’s name.

“Babe, I hope you ain’t tryin’ out the new shower head without me.” Eggsy’s voice, especially in his teasing tone, hits you hard, and nearly makes you slip, as you lose your grip on the shower head and let his swing back and hit the wall.

“Fuck, Eggsy,” you gasp, seeing his outline through the frosted glass of the door.

“I know for a fact you can be much louder than that,” he says, opening the door and studying you while he is still fully closed. “Think the whole block knows after the way you was sayin’ my name.” With a smirk, he reaches into the shower, grabbing the shower head and placing it back in your grasp. “Don’t lemme stop you,” he mumbles, setting his hands on the frame of the shower door to lean against it so he can watch you. “Let’s see how loud you can get.”


	16. Scrapbook (Dennis)

You sit down on the sofa in the Severs family living room, feeling yourself sink into the cushion and the bend springs beneath. With a laugh to yourself, you recall when you and Dennis had broken the furniture.

“Want some water?” Dennis calls out from the kitchen.

“Sure,” you reply. After a moment, Dennis enters the room, handing you a glass of water before sitting down in the armchair. “D’you remember…” you trail off, taking a sip of your drink and smiling. “When we were kids, and your mum would always go out with your aunt, and leave us here by ourselves?”

“’Course I do,” Dennis laughs.

“And once we learned that card game–”

“Scabby Queen!” Dennis exclaims, pointing towards you as his laughter grew. “And we got so fuckin’ rowdy that we broke the sofa!”

“That’s only ‘cause you cheated!” you laugh in response. “You were leadin’ me!”

“You were so easy to trick, mate,” Dennis chuckles.

“I was trusting.”

“Too trustin’,” Dennis laughs, shaking his head. “Then you tried to beat me up after.” You laugh and look away from Dennis, letting your eyes trail around the room to take in the once familiar scenery. “Ya’know, I found one of my mum’s old scrapbooks she made when we was little,” he says, suddenly, getting up from his seat again.

“Yeah?”

You watch him leave the room for a moment, then reenter soon after, carrying a large book in his hand. You set your drink down on the table as Dennis sits beside you; he makes certain he is close enough to open the book across both of your laps so you can peer down to the pictures together.

“Oi, that,” he exclaims, pointing at a picture of the two of you on Halloween. “You wanted to be PJ & Duncan, but our mums made us be Peter Pan & Tinkerbell.”

“I hated those tights,” you laugh. “You were adorable, though.”

“Aww,” Dennis teases, elbowing your side. “At least the next year, you, me, and Gog was the Beastie Boys…that was great.”

You laugh, nodding your head as you urge him to turn the next page. You are on a page of pictures from sixth form, and you cannot fight off the anxiety that bounces through your chest thinking about the strong feelings you had developed for him during that time.

“We were always in Mr. Horne’s office that year,” you say, pointing to a picture of both of you smoking cigarettes by the football field during school. Dennis laughs, glancing up at you with a smirk.

“I was tryin’ to impress Lolly Hughes,” he admits. “Most popular girl in class.” You let out a quiet chuckle, vividly recalling the way that Dennis followed Lolly around all year.

“Heard she wound up pregnant before she got to uni,” you say, with a shrug. You keep looking at the pictures of the scrapbook, but you can feel Dennis’ eyes still on you; out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching you. “What is it?” you ask, looking up at him uncomfortably.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, looking down at the book again and turning the page. “This was the night we tore down the old clubhouse in the storage room. I got you your first pint afterwards; you were pissed before you even finished it.”

“I still can’t stand the taste of it,” you shudder.

“I held back your hair so you could retch in the car park.” You feel your cheeks redden as he reminds you of your lack of ability to hold down your liquor, but he elbows you again. “It was fuckin’ bonkers,” he says. “Wouldn’t stop askin’ if you chucked on my Adidas.”

“It was embarrassing, Den.”

“Nah, it wasn’t,” he whispers. “You crashed in my room even though your dad would have thrown me over the balcony if he knew that.” You shrug again, turning the page to study more pictures. “I told you I’d sleep on the floor,” he continues, softly. “But you weren’t havin’ it. You made me sleep by you to keep you safe…so, I held you all night.”

“Yeah,” you mutter softly, feeling yourself flush even deeper.

You vividly recall the night Dennis is speaking of, every single moment. He had held you close to him, rubbing your arm gently to make certain you were comfortable through the entire night. The following morning, he promised that he would never make you drink again until you were comfortable, and then took you to breakfast. It was the night you fell for him.

“You remember it, don’t you?” he asks. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it then.”

“Realize what?” you ask, looking into his eyes as he tosses the book to the table.

“It’s you,” he says. “Always has been.”

“What–?”

Dennis presses his lips to yours, undoubtedly to stop you from talking. You freeze against his actions, and when he breaks away from you to look into your eyes, it sinks in – he feels the same way as you do. You let out a sigh, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you move in quickly for another kiss, hands desperately clinging to his shoulders.

“How long have you known?” Dennis whispers against your lips.

“Since you punched Gog for shovin’ me off of the swings in primary,” you say. Dennis laughs, kissing your cheek as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here, love, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”


	17. Recliner (Dennis)

As soon as you close the door of Dennis’ flat, you storm into the sitting room where you find him relaxing in his favorite recliner, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the television. When you enter the room, he looks up at you, the look of surprise fading off of his face and being replaced with an obvious surge of anxiety.

From your spot in the doorway, you stare at him, your hands set on your hips as you try to think of what you want to say to him, yet your words fail you. Realizing that you have entered the flat without a plan in place, you swallow hard and cut your eyes away from Dennis for a moment, searching for what you need to say to him.

“You shouldn’t sit with your legs open like that,” you say finally, locking eyes with him again. Dennis glances at his lap, before he looks back to you.

“That why you just broke into my flat?” he asks. “To tell me that I ain’t sittin’ ladylike?”

“No,” you say. As you stare at him, you are still uncertain what caused you to become enraged enough to enter his flat in such a manner, but when you decided to do it, you were sure that you had a reason – now, standing in front of him, there is only one thought on your mind.

You cross the room, dropping to your knees in front of him, not missing the furrowing of his eyebrows as you settle. Fingers fumbling with the fly of his pants, you have them unfastened in record time so you can slip your hand into his briefs. As soon as you come in contact with his member, Dennis breathes in sharply spreading his knees wider.

Pulling him out of the clothing, you stroke along him, feeling him hardening under your touch. Cutting your eyes up from his lap, you find him grabbing onto the armrests, watching you with heavy breaths falling from his mouth.

You drop your head into his lap, wrapping your lips around him and stroking your hand along him simultaneously. Dennis hums quietly, pressing his hips into your motions as you bob your head and take him deeper in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he gasps, setting one trembling hand on the back of your head. His legs fidget, his hands squeezing tighter on the arms of the chair, causing the leather to squeak. “Fuck,” he grinds out again.

You allow your mouth to do all of the work, opting to take his hands in your own and lace your fingers together so you can pin them against the chair. Taking him deeper into your mouth with each dip of your head, you can hear his moaning get louder and louder until he is pleading your name with more desire than you had thought possible.

“Close, love, don’t stop.”

You quicken your actions, feeling Dennis grip your hands tight enough to whiten his knuckles. Each bob of your head has him hitting into new territory of your throat, and you pause, your gag reflex hitting as you swallow around him. The wanting moan that scratches Dennis’ throat is something that hits you directly in your stomach, pooling between your thighs.

Resuming your harsh sucking along his length has him spilling down the back of your throat, the warmth coating you as you swallow it greedily. When you pull back, licking the taste of him from your lips, you peer up at him only to feel your own desire begin to increase. Cheeks tinged with pink, pupils blown, and lips parted as he lets out low pants, Dennis has never looked more appealing to you. 

Tucking Dennis back into his pants, you watch him blink slowly before he asks, “D’you think…we could try that again sometime?”


	18. Innocent (Dennis)

“I’m not very…good at this, Den.”

Your shyness brings your interaction with Dennis to a screeching halt, one of his hands frozen up your shirt while the other is pressed against the wall. His fingers, having just begun to cup your breast, begin to uncurl, and his hand goes still. When he raises his head from where he has been kissing your neck, and peers into your eyes, he slowly begins to pull his hand from beneath your shirt.

“I’m not a virgin or anything,” you say quickly, nervous that you have ruined your chance with him. “I’ve…I was with one man before. Only once. I’m just a bit…”

“Innocent?” Dennis asks. His hand, still beneath your shirt, now presses against your hip to hold you against the wall. “You want me to stop?” he asks, softly.

“No,” you whisper. “I’m just…warning you that I may not be…good.”

“Now, love,” he whispers, nuzzling against your cheek. “You can be my innocent girl, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?” His hand moves from your hip, fingers pushing past the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear, pausing for a moment to ask for permission. You nod slowly, your heart pounding harder in your chest, the blush working from your chest to your cheeks. “I’ll take care of ya, sweet girl,” he whispers, fingers guiding between your thighs and brushing against your clit.

“I’ve never…” You stop, swallowing hard and losing your breath as he slowly begins to rub you. “I haven’t…”

“What is it, love?” he asks, tilting his head. You attempt to keep your eyes on his face, but the sensation he is giving you makes it difficult to focus. A soft squeak comes from your throat when he applies more pressure, and rubs faster – the chuckle that Dennis huffs out blows his breath across your face. “That boy you was with,” he begins. “He didn’t get you off, did he?”

“I don’t…think so,” you mutter, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as you drop your head against the wall behind you. “I don’t know.”

“You dunno?” he scoffs, one finger pushing into your entrance. You whine, spreading your legs wider as your knees buckle beneath you. “Ain’t you ever touched yourself before?” he whispers, slowly pumping his finger into you.

“I…” You swallow hard, shaking your head at his question.

“Mmm, shame, really,” he replies, fingers returning to tease your clit again. “Lemme show you what you been missin’.” Dennis moves his fingers faster, rubbing tight, quick circles on your sensitive spot. The feeling that radiates through your heat is unbearable, beginning to spread through to your limbs. “Look at me,” Dennis commands, his voice soft but stern. Your eyes slowly flutter open, finding Dennis’ bright, beautiful green orbs staring back at you with nothing but adoration. “D’you feel it?” he whispers. “It’s building up, innit? Feelin’ tight in your stomach, hot all over?”

“Yes,” you gasp, pressing harder against the wall, instinctively grinding against his hand.

“That’s it, babe,” he whispers. “You’re doin’ great. Don’t hold back, alright? Feel it all over, d’you understand?”

The feeling spreads out, covering your entire body with a wave of warmth and quick shocks that make your body jerk. Vision becomes trivial as your eyes water, squeezing shut to see sparks set off within the darkness. The moan that escapes your lips gives way to a stuttering whine — you experience pleasure as if was a foreign concept before Dennis, and you want it to last forever.

“Easy, babe,” he whispers, noticing your knees quake beneath you, trembling as they begin to give out. Dennis wraps his free arm around your waist, slumping down to the floor with you as his fingers never once stop rubbing you as if he is desperate to get every last drop of pleasure from you.

“Oh, God, Dennis.”

“You did so fuckin’ good,” he whispers, kissing your neck then along to your lips. “You was makin’ some pretty nasty moans for an innocent girl. Can’t wait to hear more of ‘em.”


	19. Candy (Dennis)

Dennis comes across as a quiet person to those who do not know him. He stays to himself for the most part, not wasting time talking to people who were not worth the breath. People often found him to be antisocial, even dangerous, hence his nickname – but the ones who treat him this way do not know how he is with the people he cares about. Tender, loving, jovial, Dennis is one of the kindest people you have ever known. Not to mention how much he loves pleasuring you.

You lay on your back on the bed, Dennis partially on top of you with one hand on your hip and the other cupping your cheek, both of you in your underwear. He kisses you deeply, his tongue navigating your mouth as though he knows every crevice of it like the back of his hand. One of his legs, hooks over yours, his knee pressing into your clothed heat with just enough pressure to make you moan into his mouth.

“Den,” you breathe, breaking the kiss. He chuckles, instead placing his mouth to your neck, nipping playfully at your skin. At the same time, he grinds his knee against you once again, which pulls a soft moan from your lips. Dennis quickly covers your mouth with his to silence you, chuckling into your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, love,” he mutters. “My mum’ll hear you.” He kisses down your neck again, pressing tender kisses to your cleavage and your stomach as he makes his way down your body.

“Fuck,” you whisper, as Dennis pulls your panties down your legs and off of your feet. He smirks up at you, pressing your thighs apart and settling on his chest between them. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask, quietly. “Did you at least lock the door?”

“Course I did,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh. “Just relax, love. Lemme take care of you.”

Dennis slips his fingers inside of you, curling them up and pumping slowly as he flicks his tongue over your clit. You gasp quietly, pressing your head back against the pillows and trying to keep quiet to avoid getting caught. It does not take long for him to begin pumping his fingers faster and sucking harshly on your clit, having you panting hard, grinding yourself against his face.

“Fuck, babe,” you gasp. “I’m so close.”

Dennis hums against you, going even harder still as your back arches off of the bed, pushing yourself harder against his touch. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself silent as your climax builds within you. Dennis pants against you, cutting his eyes up to peer at you from between your thighs

“I’m gonna–”

Dennis clamps his free hand over your mouth to silence you as he brings you to your climax. It resonates through your whole body, hitting every muscle and circling back as you grab onto his arm and rock against his face.

Dennis does not stop until you are completely spent, and you go limp on the mattress, breathing hard against his hand. Each jolt of your climax moves through you, making you tremble softly against Dennis as he kisses his way back to your face.

Just before his mouth presses to yours, he grins, licking his fingers clean, and says, “You taste like fuckin’ candy, love.”


	20. Voicemail (Dennis)

You have not seen Dennis in several days. Due to your opposite work schedules, you usually are on your way into your flat when Dennis is on the way out. Like two ships in the night, you pass one another with a quick acknowledgement before you carry on with your usual routine. Relaxing in your bed, you flip through different apps on your phone, trying to distract yourself from the silence of your flat, though you quickly become bored and decide to take a shower.

The heat of the shower raining down on you makes your sore muscles relax, and you know that you will most likely be able to fall asleep as soon as you climb back into your bed. To your surprise, you spend a longer time in the shower than you had originally intended, and by the time you return to your bed, you notice that you have missed a call from Dennis – thirty minutes prior.

“Fuck,” you grumble, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing the phone to your ear to listen to the voicemail your boyfriend left you.

“_Hello, love_,” his raspy voice echoes in your ear. “_I hope you ain’t asleep yet, maybe just don’t have your phone nearby…_” He lets out a long sigh, then clears his throat before he continues. “_I been thinkin’ about you all night_,” he mutters. “_‘Bout the time you…stopped at the station to visit me…such a good girl for me…_” You swallow hard, recalling the day that Dennis was referring to; you hear him let out a slow breath before the message continues. “_You had texted me_,” he breathes. “_Told me to meet you in the supply room…and you was in there in nothin’ but my fuckin’ tunic.”_

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself, feeling your face flush at the way Dennis sounds on the recording – full of desire and want.

“_D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy that was?_” he continues. “_Seein’ you sittin’ there with your cunt dripping onto my fuckin’ uniform…wish you could wear it every day. I love seein’ you wear my clothes, babe. But d’ya’know what I’m thinkin’ ‘bout now?_” Dennis lets out another shuddered breath and the phone and the sound becomes muffled, no doubt as he covers the speaker. “_Watching you finger fuck yourself while you’re in one of my shirts_,” he mutters, his voice deeper than before – the tone of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. “_I’m so bloody hard right now. I just keep picturin’ how good you look when you wrap them pretty little lips ‘round my fingers, or my cock. I love your lips, so soft and that little pink tongue…fuck, I can’t take it anymore._”

The call ends abruptly and you feel a heavy weight in your stomach from the arousal that Dennis has given you. Biting your lip, you contemplate your options: take a cold shower and go to sleep, get yourself off by listening to the voicemail again – _or._

The front door of your flat opens, and you realize that Dennis ended the phone call so he could come home to you. Quickly, you snatch one of his shirts from the nearby hamper, inhaling the scent of him as you pull it on and then spread yourself out on the bed, waiting for him to enter the room. As soon as the door opens, and Dennis is standing in the doorway, staring at you with more desire than you have ever seen in his eyes, you bite your lip and run your hands up your thighs.

Smirking up at him while he rubs his hand over his crotch, you breathe out, “You wanted to watch me do _what _again?”


	21. Shower (Dennis)

You tip your head back beneath the shower head, allowing the water to wash away the shampoo. Scrubbing your fingers through your hair, you make certain it is clear of suds, when suddenly you hear the door to the shower room shut loudly. Glancing towards the sound, you see Dennis making his way towards you, a towel wrapped around his waist – he stops in his tracks when he spots you.

“Oh, I thought everyone already left,” he says, his fingers twisting at the towel to keep it in place. “D’you want me to leave?”

“No, you’re alright,” you reply, shaking your head, trying to keep your gaze on his face. Dennis stares back at you and when you notice a very subtle narrowing of his eyes, you know what he can read on your face.

“You sure?” he checks, now allowing his fingers to loosen the towel just enough to show a bit more skin. This time, you cannot stop from letting your gaze linger over his stomach and his hip bones, even catching a small glimpse of neatly trimmed hair peeking at the edge of the towel.

“Mmhm,” you hum with a smirk. Looking into his eyes again, you are certain you can see a cheeky glint hidden there. “I’m sure,” you nod.

Without another word, Dennis snatches the towel from around his waist and you hurry to avert your eyes to avoid seeing more of him than you can handle. A blush hits your cheeks, spreading through your neck and your chest, but you turn your back towards Dennis to avoid being caught. As soon as you hear him turn on the shower head, you glance over your shoulder to find him watching you as he begins to rub his soap over his chest – a small smirk slowly spreads across his lips.

“What is it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he stares back at you.

“Nothing,” you reply.

“You’re terrible at hidin’ how turned on you are,” he laughs.

“Excuse me?” A quick spin has you facing him, not bothering to hide the scarlet tint of your skin as you stare at Dennis. His eyebrows quirk and the smile that spreads across his face gives you a chill, even underneath the warmth of the water. “Don’t be so cocky,” you say. “It’s not sexy.”

“That’s a lie,” he chuckles, stepping closer to rest his hands on the top of the shower divider. He stands on tiptoes peering over the wall to look down at your body, which you make no effort to hide. “Bet if I came ‘round there and got a feel between your thighs,” he begins, blinking slowly and pulling his eyes back to your face. “I’d find out the truth.”

“Think so?” you ask.

“Mmm,” he hums, narrowing his eyes and biting his lip. “Know so.” You smirk back at Dennis, taking a few steps back until you feel your back it the opposite side of the stall.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”


	22. Face (Dean)

“Hey, gorgeous. You’re looking particularly tasty tonight.”

Dean had consumed a great deal of alcohol during the course of the party and is now leaning over the back of the sofa with his head nuzzling against yours. You scoff, leaning away from him, only for him to react by hoisting himself over the sofa in a dramatic fashion. He lands with his head in your lap, the rest of him stretched across the couch.

“You’re wasted,” you laugh, looking down at him.

“Sweetness, I can handle my liquor,” he says, reaching up to tap his finger on your nose. “Don’t you worry about me.” You bat his hand away from your face, which earns a laugh out of him. You take a sip of your drink, trying your best to ignore Dean as he sings along with the music of the party. “Can I ask you something?” he inquires after a few moments. You glance down at him to find him peering up at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Sure.”

“How come we’ve never hooked up?” he asks. “I think we could get pretty hot.”

“Think so?” you ask, with a chuckle. He nods his head, fumbling with his pocket for a moment until he pulls out a small baggie; you immediately snatch it from his grasp. “It’s empty,” you say, tossing it onto the table. “Focus.” He smiles up at you, and you pull the glasses from his face so you can get a better look at him.

“I’ve thought about it before,” he says, chewing on his lip for a moment before continuing. “And I’ve jerked off to it, too.” At the comment, your mind wanders to what Dean would look like in his bed, moaning and panting while he got himself off – especially at the thought of you. In response, you feel yourself becoming wet, so you shift your legs, without thinking that Dean’s head still set in your lap. “Oh-ho!” he chuckles. “You like that, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he laughs. “Body language.” He blinks slowly, keeping his eyes closed for a moment before he peers back at you. “And speaking of bodies,” he mutters. “Your thighs are incredible; have I ever told you that before?”

“Nope,” you say. He rolls over onto his stomach and rests his weight on his forearms, his eyes taking in what skin he can see of your legs under your skirt.

“I’d like to see how my head fits between them.”

“How much did you say you had to drink?” you ask, pushing his hand away just as he reaches out to your leg. Dean groans in his throat and moves to sit on his knees beside you, one hand setting on the back of the sofa behind you to brace himself as he leans in closer.

“You want me to beg you for it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “I want it so fuckin’ bad, I’ll get down on my knees right here and beg if you want me to.” Dean’s voice is raspy, as per usual, but there’s a neediness hidden within it that hits you in your gut.

You turn your head towards Dean, your faces merely an inch apart. His lips are parted, slow yet heavy breaths falling free to fill your nostrils with the scent the alcohol he had consumed. When you pull your lip between your teeth, Dean’s eyes watch carefully, and he takes in a sharp breath.

“What is it that you want, exactly?” you whisper, noting how Dean’s eyes never leave your lips while you speak. After a moment, he smirks, cutting his gaze to your eyes. His hand sets onto your knee, carefully sliding higher, pushing your skirt up as he went.

“Something I’ve never tried before,” he replies. “Interested?”

“Maybe.”

“C’mon, sweetness,” he breathes, grabbing your inner thigh and prying your legs apart. “Let me taste you…I want you to sit on my face.” You whimper quietly at his question, instinctively edging yourself closer to his hand in an attempt to feel his touch. “I want this pussy,” he begins, fingers brushing over your panties. “On my face…so I can look up and see you moaning my name. I think you’d look really fuckin’ sexy.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Dean nods his head, giving you the most genuinely innocent look he can. “I don’t know, Dean,” you whisper. “That doesn’t sound like begging.” A small hum comes from his throat and he nods his head in the direction of his room.

You take the hint, gently pushing him away from you so you can stand from the sofa. Dean makes no effort to hide that he is following you, staying hot on your trail, and practically tripping over you as you both enter the bedroom. You cross to the bed, and as you stand before it, you slip your panties down your legs, kicking them to the side.

“Fuck me,” Dean mutters from behind you. Letting out a quiet chuckle, you sit on the edge of the bed, hiking your skirt up enough to put yourself on display for Dean. He starts to move towards you, but you hold your hand up.

“Stop,” you say, and he freezes, staring at you with wide eyes. “On your knees.” He does as you command, his eyes focusing between your thighs as you spread your legs wider. Once you are certain you have his attention, you begin to rub your clit very slowly; Dean lets out a small whine at the sight.

“Jesus Christ,” he says. “Fuck, babe, please let me taste your pussy. Please. You drive me fuckin’ crazy. It’s all I can think about…having you hump my face while you fuckin’ drip into my mouth. I want every fuckin’ drop of it. I promise, I’ll lick your pussy so good that you’ll never want anyone else to touch you again. You’ll be crawling into my bed every night, hungry for more, and I’ll give it to you, babe. I’ll give you fuckin’ everything.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, leaning back to rest your weight on your hand and continue to rub yourself while he watches.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Please sit on my face.”

“On the bed,” you say, standing up.

Dean scrambles to his feet at your command. He brushes past you and lays centered on the bed, waiting for you. Dropping your skirt to the floor, you join him on the bed, crawling over him and straddling his head. You do not immediately settle onto him, keeping yourself at a distance so he can see just how wet you are.

“Fuck, don’t tease me too much,” he mumbles. With a smirk, you grab his wrists and pin them down to the bed; from the look on Dean’s face, your action confuses him. “This is the only time I’m gonna let you get away with this,” he warns. “And it’s only because I’ve had a lot to drink, and I’m dying to do this.”

“Duly noted.”

After a moment, you settle onto his face, keeping most of your weight on your knees so you can give Dean a taste of you. With a soft moan, he traces his tongue from your entrance to your clit; the contact, along with the feeling of his breath on your skin, sends a shiver through your body. His tongue circles your clit a few times, not touching it but teasing enough to have you aching for more.

“Closer,” he says. “I want my tongue inside of you.” Your hands grip his wrists tighter, letting out a contented sigh as you do as he requests.

Once you are pressed closer to him, you look down between your legs and you can tell that he is grinning from the look in his eyes. You are distracted long enough to have him slowly work his tongue into your entrance; he groans very softly, closing his eyes as he delves his tongue as deep as he can into you.

“Fuck, Dean.” He growls at the use of his name, and immediately moves his attention to your clit, sucking on it harshly enough to get a yelp out of you. You moan at the feeling, grinding yourself against his mouth – Dean hums, opening his mouth and lapping at your clit with his breath coming hard against you. “Fuck, that feels so good,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

Dean quickly tugs at his hands as if he is trying to pull them from your grasp, but you lean over him, lacing your fingers with his to pin his hands down once again. Your hips are pressed closer to him, and you slowly grind down against him. His hands squeeze yours as he starts sucking on your clit again, even letting his teeth play with it enough to earn a small gasp from you.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, letting your head roll back.

You try to raise off of him for a moment for a reprieve, but Dean lets out a growl in response. You are distracted enough for Dean to snatch his hands from your grasp, wrapping around your thighs to pin you down against him. Now, his face his buried against you, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue probes into you again.

A hum turns into a while when Dean alternates between tonguing your hole and teasing your clit – you can barely keep your head up from how hazy it is becoming. One of his hands releases from your thigh and smacks you hard on your backside, grabbing a handful of it to pin you even harder against him.

You attempt to grind against him, but he holds you so firmly, you can barely move. Your climax is threatening inside of you, creeping closer and closer – one of your hands threads fingers through his hair, tugging hard enough to get Dean to dig his short nails into your skin. Dean’s tongue is frantic and you know that it will not take much longer before you will be falling apart.

“So close,” you whisper. You are unsure if Dean can hear you over the sounds of his own moans, and the sloppy noise his mouth makes against your slickness. “Fuck, Dean,” you gasp, trying hard to grind against him for the last of the friction you need; Dean mutters his approval against you, entirely incoherent.

When it hits you, your orgasm makes you tremble, deep shudders and a tingling sensation through your entire body. Your hand grabs his forearm, desperate to touch him more as you roll yourself against him. You are certain he is moaning almost as loud as you as he locks you against his face to help you ride out your high. After a moment, you let go of him, pressing your hands to the bed to steady yourself as your body still quakes.

“Mmmm,” Dean hums, slapping you hard on your backside, so you climb off of him and curl up on the bed beside him. “That was even better than I expected, sweetness.” You nod your head slowly, body still tender from how hard your climax hit you. “I take it you liked that?” he asks, using his fingers to wipe the wetness from his face. “I mean, the way that you were screaming my name just then sort of gave it away.” He licks his fingers clean, a sight which is almost enough to give you another orgasm. When he catches you staring at him, lust still swimming in your eyes, he lets out a quiet chuckle, making sure to make the last few licks extra seductive for your viewing pleasure. “Wanna go again?”


	23. Stare (Dean)

Dean Karny. Men like him have never been your type, with the exorbitant spending on anything glitzy enough to send him rocketing to the top of the guest list to all of the top clubs on the Strip. However, there is something different about him, something that draws you in head first.

You watch him mingle with the guests at the party, not bothering to push the girls away who are too handsy – which is something that bothers you more than you care to let on. There is something undeniably charismatic about him that makes it difficult for anyone not get caught in his web. While it irks you, you cannot deny how much it adds to his attraction.

Ordinarily, you would be less obvious about the way you study him, only sparing quick glances throughout the night to placate the gnawing need to discover any new quirks about him. Tonight, however, after having been stood up by a man you had been seeing casually, you throw caution to the wind and keep your eyes glued on him as much as you can.

As the night progresses, you find yourself in Dean’s presence, albeit in a group of your friends, and you hope that he will read the messages you silently send his way. Finally, when his eyes find yours, you make no effort to hide how you stare at him, hoping that the look in your eyes tell him all of your current thoughts. The quirk of his eyebrow and the half smirk let you know he understands.

You discreetly take you leave of the group and head towards the kitchen to get another drink. As you pour the vodka into your cup, Dean slips in beside you, leaning against the counter beside you with a grin on his lips.

“So,” he begins, as you look up from your task. “Wasn’t your boyfriend supposed to be here tonight? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I haven’t seen him.” As if to prove his point, Dean glances around the empty kitchen before looking back to you.

“He stood me up.”

“Well, that is a damn shame,” Dean says. “Especially with you looking extra delicious tonight.” You chuckle as you finish mixing your drink and slide the bottles back into place. “So, you gonna eye-fuck me all night, or are you gonna do something about it?” Feeling a sudden desire to play hard to get, you scoff at him, resting your hip against the counter, taking a sip of your drink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, I’m too horny to play games, baby girl,” he chuckles. “We can ditch this party right now, head to my room…and I’ll fuck you so hard that you’ll forget you even met that asshole.” You feel your skin flush as your mind floods with the images of what Dean would possibly do – he notices. “I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt,” he whispers. “Keep you up all night, begging for it. I’ll bet you’ve never had it like I can do it.”

“Is that so?” you breathe, trying to maintain your composure.

“Only one way to find out.”


	24. Lesson (Dean)

One of your favorite things to do is to work Dean into a frenzy, and make his appetite for you insatiable. The quickest and easiest way to do so, you discovered early on in your relationship, is to act up in a public setting. Certainly you never stoop so low as to embarrass him in front of his friends, or – God forbid – a client, because you are not out to harm his reputation. All you want is to provoke him enough to have him fighting the urge to drag you somewhere to teach you a lesson.

This time, you are at Spago’s with him and the other members of the Club, enjoying a night of frivolity, when you get the urge to tease Dean, who sits beside you. Crossing your legs, you make certain that your skirt hikes up just enough to catch Dean’s eye, and give him a view of your stockings and garter belt. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dean react almost instantly, his attention on the newly exposed clothing. His hand that was resting on his lap now clenches into a fist, knuckles white before he discreetly reaches to you and straightens out your skirt. The plan is already working.

Throughout the night, you make certain to brush your hand over Dean’s thighs, and give him the most seductive looks you can muster, only to watch his face turn a deeper shade of red. At one moment, when you are certain no one is watching, you lean in to whisper to him.

“You’re so sexy when you’re hot and bothered,” you say, blowing gently in his ear. “Face it, Dean: I know all of your weaknesses.”

“You’d better think real hard about what you’re doing, babe,” he mutters, not looking at you, but very obviously fidgeting and trying to hide the bulge in his pants. “Unless it’s trouble that you’re looking for.”

You do not bother responding, but instead up the ante: you dance with Joe, making sure that Dean keeps his eyes on you the entire time. You can see the exact moment the fire lights inside of him, and you know that you have accomplished your mission.

You are barely across the threshold of the bedroom you share with Dean, when he moves past you, grabbing your arm and pulling you with him. He sits on the edge of the bed, tossing you over his lap – you know exactly what he has planned.

Dean’s fingers drag your skirt up the curve of your backside, bunching it at your waist so he can look down at the lingerie you wore just for him. Humming quietly, he slowly traces his fingers over your backside hooking into garter strap and pulling it back to snap against your thigh. A small whimper is drawn from within you, and you wiggle yourself in his lap.

“Make it hurt, baby,” you plead.

A dark chuckle echoes from above you just as his hand comes down hard, stinging your skin. You yelp, lurching in his lap and grabbing onto his thighs, fingers clenching his slacks. Dean’s hand rubs soothingly over your cheek before giving another harsh smack that rings out through the air. The whimper that you release is quiet, and from the sudden smack that Dean lands on your sensitive backside, much harder than before, you can tell he wants you to be louder. Instead, you choose to do the opposite.

Each time Dean spanks you, it is harder than the last, and you can feel your arousal dripping from you and onto his pants. However, you continue to stifle your cries of pleasure, in an effort to get punished further. He does not stop, spanking for what seems like an hour, until your skin is nearly numb. Finally, he strikes off-target, smacking you on your thigh hard enough to earn that yelp he was after.

“There we go,” he chuckles, rubbing gently over your skin. “You know better than to hold back.” He helps you from his lap, maneuvering you to lay on your back atop the bed, but as soon as your skin comes in contact with the sheets, you hiss, shifting to your side. “You okay?” Dean asks, a cocky smirk on his lips.

“Of course,” you reply. “Though I may have to call in sick for work tomorrow, because of how bad my ass hurts after that.”

“That’s what happens when you act up, babe. I hope you learned your lesson.”

A grin spreads across your lips as you reply, “Not even close.”


	25. Paperwork (Dean)

Dean is not paying attention to you. Ordinarily, you are not one to require attention from your boyfriend, but he had arrived home from a week-long business trip that morning, and had not bothered touching you once. You understand that his paperwork is important to complete as soon as possible, yet still, you wish he would take a few minutes to give you what you want.

“Dean, can you take a break from that?” you ask, biting your lip and crossing your arms as you lean in the doorway of his office. “Everyone else is at lunch.”

“I gotta finish this contract,” he says, glancing up for a moment. “I’m sorry, babe. But if you’re hungry, I can give you some cash and you can take my car to pick something up for yourself.”

“I don’t want food,” you say. “I want you.” Dean chuckles softly, lowering his gaze back to the papers on his desk. “I don’t know why you’re laughing,” you say, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind you. “You’ve been gone for a week, and I missed you.”

“No, you missed my dick, not me,” he laughs, shaking his head, still looking down at his paperwork. You cross the room, stopping in front of his desk and folding your arms over your chest again as you stare at him. After a moment, he stops writing his eyes looking up from his papers but not looking at you. “What?” he asks, finally peering up at you with an amused smirk on his lips. You narrow your eyes as a plan begins to develop in your mind, so you sigh, shrugging your shoulders.

“Can you at least explain to me what it is you’re working on?” you inquire, walking around and kneeling onto the floor beside Dean’s chair. For a moment, he appears confused, looking from your face to the paperwork, but he clears his throat and rolls his chair slightly from the desk to allow you to lean closer to see the papers.

As Dean begins to describe the contract, you place your hand on his high on his thigh to support your weight, and Dean pauses for a second at the contact. He continues talking, but as you drag your hand higher up his thigh, finally pressing your palm to his crotch, he sucks air through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks. You raise your eyebrows, eyes going wide in innocence as you slowly start to rub him through his slacks. “Babe,” he warns, his voice breathy already. “I’m never gonna finish this paperwork if you keep doing that.”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you push Dean’s chair back from beneath the desk, turning him to face you. You maintain eye contact with him as you pull him free from his slacks, slowly stroking over him. His eyes focus on your hand, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the grin that begins to pull at his mouth. You carefully drag your tongue along the underside of his erection, stopping to swirl it around his tip, like you know drives him crazy.

When you take Dean’s tip into your mouth, he lets out a delicious moan that hits your straight in your stomach, so you grab onto his hips to keep him still as you start sucking. Bobbing your head over him, taking him deeper and deeper each time, you hollow out your cheeks to pull some more of his beautiful moans from his throat.

Dean’s hand sets gently on the back of your head, but quickly pushes down so you lower over him entirely and he hits the back of your throat. The groan he releases is guttural, followed by a desperate moan of your name that gets caught in his throat. When you gag softly around him, Dean yanks your head back to allow you to breathe, but you hurriedly take him back into your mouth, hungry for a taste of him.

A few more quick bobs over him, and his hips raise from the chair, pushing further into your mouth as he spills down the back of your throat. You keep sucking until Dean pulls you back, looking down at you to watch you lick his tender tip one last time, just to watch his hips jerk.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, baby,” you grin, tucking him back into his pants and patting him on the legs. “I know how important it is, so I’ll just go home and take care of myself, okay?” As soon as you stand up, Dean stands with you, grabbing your hips and dragging you closer to help you sit on his desk.

“We both know that’s not happening.”


	26. Lick (Dean)

You know that it is a childish reaction, but whenever you hear the melody of an ice cream truck, it is an immediate reaction to locate said truck and purchase a cone. This time, you are with Dean, walking towards his car after visiting a friend in Inglewood, when you hear the melody.

“What is it?” Dean asks, seeing you looking around quickly.

“Ice cream truck,” you reply, spotting it several yards away, coming to a stop near a group of children.

“What are–?” Dean begins, but you snatch your hand from his grasp and cross the street quickly. “Babe, what the fuck?” You hear him hurrying behind you, making a very narrow escape from being hit by a car. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

“I want a chocolate cone,” you mutter to him, digging through your bag for cash as you both come to a stop in the line behind the cheering children.

“Keep your money, kid,” he jokes. “I’ll buy your ice cream for you.”

“You’re the greatest,” you reply, kissing him on the cheek.

After several minutes of waiting for the children to decide which treats they wanted, you order your cone and wait, almost as impatiently as the other younger patrons until the man hands you the cone. Dean thanks him, handing over the cash, before he takes your hand and begins to lead you back towards his car.

“You know,” he begins, checking both sides of the street for cars before you cross. “If you get any of that on the interior of my car, we’re gonna have a problem.” You reach his car, and Dean leans against the door, twirling his keys around his finger. “So, maybe we should just wait until you’re finished,” he adds. “Avoid any issues.”

You chuckle softly, licking the ice cream that has begun to melt down the side of the cone before licking the ice cream itself. As you are caught up in your snack, you do not immediately realize that Dean’s eyes are on you, watching you intently; finally, you catch a glimpse of him and look up to study the intensity of his gaze.

“What?” you ask, giving the cone another lick. You notice the small quirk in the corner of Dean’s mouth, his eyes narrowing at you – with a coy smile, you extend the cone towards him. “You wanna lick?” you ask, biting your lip.

“All I can think about is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone,” Dean says, lowly. Snatching the cone from your grasp with one hand, he grabs your wrist with the other, bringing your fingers closer to his mouth to he can lick the chocolate that has dripped down them. “You want this back?” he asks, glancing to the cone. “Or would you rather lick something tastier?”


	27. Mouth (Dean)

One of your favorite things to do is to tease Dean when you know he cannot do anything to stop you. Generally, your teasing comes in the form or sneaky comments, or even a subtle touch or two when no one is looking – this is often met with a warning glare, which only makes you want to push him further. Sometimes, you know you have pushed him too far when later that night, in bed, he becomes a bit more aggressive than usual.

Tonight, however, your desire to work him up has reached a high you did not expect, and all you want is to push him until he breaks. At a party with your friends, you spot him standing with Joe, most likely discussing business, but in the moment, you do not care. You casually make your way across the party, smiling at the people you pass along the way.

Before you even make it to Dean, he spots you, his eyes narrowing when he notices the look on your face – he already knows you have something planned. As soon as you reach him, you slip between him and Joe, draping one arm over his shoulder and pressing your other hand to his chest.

“Sweetness,” he says, calmly, not a note of amusement on his face, but instead a quiet intensity. “Can I help you with something?”

“No,” you grin, kissing his jaw. “I was just thinking of last night…when you were moaning so loud for me. You were so needy, baby. I’d never heard you like that before.”

“Careful, baby girl,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Joe chuckles, excusing himself to leave you by yourself with Dean. As soon as Joe is gone, Dean grabs your wrist yanking you in the opposite direction and out of earshot of anyone else.

“What the fuck was that?” he snaps.

“What?” you ask, innocently. “I got really worked up thinking of how you told me that no one has ever sucked your cock as good as me.” Dean’s nostrils flare at your words, giving you a warning glare, but the clouding in his eyes pushes you on. “You were fucking whining, baby,” you continue, not missing the subtle sigh that Dean lets out. “I didn’t know you had it in you to sound so fucking desperate.”

“I swear to God,” Dean breathes, grabbing both of your forearms to pull you closer to him. “You had better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, before I put it to work, doll.”

“Mmm, you just want me to suck your cock again,” you tease, finally noticing the small smirk beginning to spread across his lips. “I can tell…I can feel you already.” You grind your hips against him and watch the small shiver that runs through him at the contact.

“You are asking for it, okay, babe?” he rasps.

“Ooh, asking for what?”

“Go to my bedroom,” he whispers. “I want you naked and on your goddamn knees by the time I get there.”


	28. Car (Dean)

You have only been dating Dean for two months, and to your surprise, he has not made an effort to advance your relationship sexually. Over the span of your time together, you have spent most of the time at dinner with one another, chatting about life, and only sharing a few brief kisses. Knowing what you do about Dean, you find it unusual that he has not made any moves on you, and you have begun to take it personally.

Tonight, Dean is driving you back to your apartment after spending a lovely evening together at one of the high-end restaurants that he frequents. The car stays relatively silent, apart from the radio quietly droning on some new wave track that you do not recognize. You are focused on Dean’s hand, gently gripping yours, thumb rubbing against it as he softly sings along to the song on the radio, his raspy voice scratching out a tune better than you expect.

In preparation for the date, you opted to forego wearing panties, hoping that somewhere along the way, Dean would take your relationship to the next level. Much to your disappointment, he was a perfect gentleman the entire night, not so much as setting his hand on your leg at any point during dinner. Now, however, you have grown tired of waiting for him to make a move, and decide to take matters into your own hands.

You look at Dean, briefly studying the way the moonlight catches and accentuates his profile; his nose, his lips, his entire face absolutely stunning in the natural light of the night. As you stare, Dean glances towards you for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the road. He stops singing, instead spreading a smile over his lovely pink lips that you have spent hours thinking about.

“It’s not polite to stare,” he says, a small chuckle following. “But I’ll let you slide, because you’re so beautiful.” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it.

Instead of answering, you pull Dean’s hand towards your mouth, keeping your gaze on him as you guide his index finger between your lips. The smile on Dean’s face slowly fades, only to be replaced by parted lips and raised eyebrows, still making every effort to keep his focus on the dark highway but stealing hurried glances at you. Carefully, you suck on his finger, twirling your tongue around it to tease him, and slide his middle finger into your mouth to join the first.

“Jesus, babe,” he mutters. “What are you doing?” Making sure his fingers are wet before you pull them from your lips, you smile at him innocently.

“What you haven’t had the balls to do,” you whisper, teasing his digits with the tip of your tongue.

“Mmm,” he hums, glancing at you with a warning glare. “Trust me, baby girl: I’ve got the balls, just didn’t think you were ready for it yet.”

“Tell me something, Dean,” you begin, spreading your thighs and bringing his hand between them. “Do you think I feel ready for you?”

You slide his fingers along your slickness, hearing the slightly stifled groan that rumbles in Dean’s throat as he feels it. For a moment, you guide the tips of his fingers around, collecting as much of your juices as you can, before pressing his fingers to your entrance and releasing your hold on him. You notice his other hand grip the steering wheel more firmly, shifting closer towards you as he gives another hurried glance towards your lap, then back to the road.

“Didn’t even need to suck on my fingers, did you, baby girl?” Dean asks, softly, pushing his fingers into you. “Warm little pussy is ready for attention…desperate for it, hm?” He pumps slowly for a moment, then pulls out to rub teasingly over your clit. You whine, spreading your legs wider as you slink down in your seat to push against his hand. “Needy,” he chuckles.

“More than you know,” you mutter, reaching across to rub your hand over Dean’s crotch. You fumble for a moment, trying to pull down the zipper of his slacks, but find it difficult to focus with the way Dean’s skilled fingers work your heat. “Fuck,” you gasp, shoving his hand away and unbuckling your seat belt. You shift to lean over him, reaching into his pants to pull his erection free, and your eyes immediately widen in surprise. “Dean,” you whimper.

“What is it, baby girl?” he mutters, one hand tenderly rubbing over your back.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be that big.” Dean releases a smug chuckle, tugging your skirt up so he can smack you gently on your backside. With a small yelp, you run your tongue over the tip of his erection and blow softly on it, sending a noticeable chill through Dean’s body.

“If I have to pull over,” Dean begins, his voice low and somehow raspier. “You won’t be able to walk for the next week.” You tilt your head to the side, peering up and making certain he is looking down at you before you flick your tongue over his head again

“Is that a promise?”


	29. Target (Robin)

You draw your bow back to your cheek, pausing to anchor. Breathing out slowly, you release the arrow, watching it fall just short of your target. With a heavy sigh, you drop your arms to your sides, contemplating the thought of giving up on archery altogether, until you hear someone moving behind you.

“It was a nice try, darling, but I think your form is off.”

“I don’t need your help, Robin.”

“I don’t believe that,” he scoffs, stepping closer. He presses his chest against your back, and for a moment, you begin to pull away until one of his arms hooks around your waist to hold you still. “Legs apart,” he instructs, guiding his foot between your ankles and nudging them apart. “Back straight.”

You fix your posture, finding yourself flush against Robin now as he holds an arrow out in front of your body. Once you accept it, Robin guides your arms up to nock your arrow, and allow his hands to roam over you, straightening out your limbs as he needs.

“There we go,” he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Draw.” You pull back the bow, once again anchoring it at your face and letting out a slow breath, feeling his hands drag down from your arms towards your hips. “Focus,” he says, as you tremble softly. “And loose.” You release the bow, watching as it hits the edge of the wooden target, splintering it as it digs in. “Good girl,” he chuckles in your ear, breath tickling your skin. His hands begin creeping lower down your sides, fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“What are you doing?” you ask, quietly, not lowering your bow.

“Rewarding you.”

“I barely hit the target.”

With a small chuckle, Robin twists your dress in one fist, his free hand finding its way in between your thighs to find your bare, damp heat. The feeling of his fingers tracing along your folds makes your grip loosen on your bow, and it clatters to the ground.

“This is inappropriate,” you gasp as Robin’s finger rubs over your clit. “Anyone can see us…” Your thighs instinctively begin to pull together and your shoulders slump forward from the sensation of Robin’s skilled fingers delicately rubbing your most sensitive spot.

“What did I tell you, darling? Legs apart.” He forces his knee between your thighs, wedging them apart so his hand can continue its work. “Shoulders back,” he mutters, kissing your neck, and you quickly oblige, pressing harder against him. “There’s a good girl.”

“Don’t tease me, Robin,” you moan. “Please.”

“Oh, you don’t like when I tease? Then why are you moaning for me?”

His fingers continue to work your nerves quickly, bringing your climax on rapidly; his opposite arm hooks around your waist once again, locking you in against him. As you tremble against him, moaning and gasping louder than you intend, Robin whispers his encouragement in your ear, still not stopping his movements until you slump against him.

“Care to find out what happens when you hit the center of the target?”


	30. Melody (Robin)

You sit on the crumbled ledge outside of Loxley Manor watching Robin utilizing the training techniques that John had taught him. The other man had left some time before, to – in his words – ‘do some reconnaissance for the next mission’, which left you alone with Robin. Watching him, shirtless and in pants that stretch perfectly across his backside and thighs, you cannot help but feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second.

Robin takes a wide stance in front of a wooden support rigged with a pulley system, one hand gripping the post firmly while the other takes hold of the rope. You notice on the opposite end of the rope is a metal pot filled with thick chains, and immediately you feel a chill through your body before he even begins to lift.

As Robin pulls the rope back, mimicking the motion of drawing his bow, you watch the movement of the muscles in his back and his arms – tightening and straining. He continues, repeating the motion over and over, and you squeeze your thighs together, accidentally letting out an audible, trembling breath. Robin cocks his head towards you, an amused grin quickly spreading across his lips. Once again, your body flushes, but it spreads toward your cheeks, immediately giving you away.

“Now, darling,” he speaks, letting go of the rope to allow the pot to hit the ground hard, and making you jump slightly. He slowly makes his way towards you, reminiscent of an animal stalking his prey; you exhale shakily, biting your lip. When he reaches you, he presses his hands to the ledge on either side of your body, boxing you in. “Did you say something?” he inquires, his voice soft.

“N-No,” you stutter. He lowers his hands to the bottom of your dress, bunching it up in his fingers, not once taking his eyes off of your face as he keeps his face barely inches from yours. “Robin,” you breathe, turning your face away as you feel your cheeks flush deeper. “John might return, and he’ll–”

“No, he won’t,” Robin whispers, nudging his nose against your cheek. “I told him to occupy himself as long as he could. I’ve been waiting for you to finally break.” You turn back towards Robin, realizing that he has been planning for you to be caught in this moment alone with him. The beautiful, amused grin that creeps up to his lips makes your insides twist, now practically dripping wet for him. “I do apologize, my darling,” he chuckles. “Did you not–?” He begins to pull his hands from you, but you shake your head quickly.

“I’m yours.”

Robin’s lips are on yours in a moment, kissing you passionately as you had been dreaming of for so long. Your hands take hold of his bare hips, digging your fingers in hard to pull him closer, but when he starts to drag his kisses down your neck, you release your hold on him.

Robin quickly lowers to his knees, tossing your dress up your lap and you wiggle enough to bunch it higher, angling bare, dripping heat closer towards his face. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, holding onto your thighs with both hands as he leans in to drag his tongue along your wetness. The contact is so sudden, and you have been aching for Robin so long, a jolt runs through your body. A needy, loud moan echoes through the rubble of the manor, and you grab onto his wrists, pushing your hips towards him. Robin licks his lips, peering up at you with a spark in his eyes.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh. “It was like a fucking melody. That beautiful noise all from one little lick. Mm, let’s see what else you can do.”


	31. Sweater (Eddie)

You have been watching Eddie training with Bronson all day long. He has fallen and gotten back up more times than you care to count, but each time, you feel your heart beat harder. Eddie is the most tenacious person you have ever met, and always pushes as hard as he can, sometimes to the detriment of his health. However, you knew that no matter how nervous his stunts made you, there is no stopping him, which only makes you care for him more.

The two of you have been secretly spending time together along over the last few weeks – alone time with Eddie consisted of cuddling and a few heated makeout sessions. You are not used to being the one who has control over the sexual aspect of a relationship, generally finding yourself being more submissive to your partner; however, things with Eddie seem to be stagnant, and you are certain he is not going to be the one to take the lead.

As Eddie hits the snow hard, nearly knocking his helmet off, you get up from your seat and make your way towards the tavern without alerting Eddie and Bronson. You avoid the other patrons of the tavern, taking the stairs to get to Eddie’s ‘room’ in the cupboard. As soon as you step inside, and look around at his colorful sweaters strewn about the area, an idea pops into your head.

Removing all of your clothes, you slip on the most vibrantly colored sweater you see and settle down onto your knees on his makeshift bed, facing the door. You are unsure of how long you will have to wait before Eddie finishing training for the day, but you have the patience, and you know that it will be worthwhile.

To your surprise, not much time passes before you hear Eddie’s clunking footsteps coming down the stairs, so you sit up higher, making sure the sweater is covering you completely as you put your hands on your thighs. You listen to him fumble with the door for a moment, muttering softly to himself before he shoves the door open and takes a step inside. As soon as his gaze lands on you, he stops dead in his tracks, eyes going wide.

“That’s my sweater,” he says, his voice tight.

“Mhm,” you nod, looking down at the sweater and tugging at the hem to show a little more of your thighs. “Is that okay?” You peer back at Eddie from under your lashes, blinking slowly to try to appear innocent. Eddie nods his head slowly at first, before he nods a little faster, losing his grip on his skis and helmet. He hurriedly shoves all of his belonging to the side, slamming the door shut behind him and tugging his own sweater down lower. When he rubs his hands on his thighs, and you notice that his eyes are glued to the hemline of the sweater, you tug it higher still, causing his eyes to go wider.

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything beneath that, are you?” he asks, peering back into your eyes. You slowly shake your head and bite your lip, cocking your head to the side as you give him a playful stare.

“I figured I could give you a nice treat,” you say. “Since you’ve been working so hard lately.”

“I have,” he nods, slowly, mesmerized by you. “Wh-What sort of treat?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you.”


	32. Dreams (Eddie)

You wake up in a sweat, panting hard as you stare up at the roof of the caravan. Your clothes are stuck to your body and the sheets of the bed feel as though they are made of concrete, weighing you down into the lumpy mattress. Quickly, you kick them off and pull your shirt over your head, throwing it to the side before removing your pants as well. Sprawling out on the mattress, you try to steady your breathing and recover from the dream that woke you up.

In your dream, you were having sex with Eddie. It was not the first time you had an inappropriate dream about your boyfriend, but ordinarily, they were quite tame, not straying far from kissing and groping. This time, however, Eddie became ravenous, much to your surprise; his hands were all over you, his mouth leaving bites on every inch of your skin that he could find. When he was inside of you, there was something about him that was insatiable, unlike you had ever imagined him to be, giving you more pleasure than you would have expected.

Each time you have a dream about Eddie, you make certain to inform him of it. Generally, his cheeks flush and he mutters incoherently, but immediately pulls you close for a very gentle make-out session. The interactions have been growing stronger each time, and you can usually feel Eddie fighting off the urge to take the next step. You never want to push him to go further, however, after your dream, you feel your desires growing stronger.

As you lay there, replaying the dream in your head, you hear a noise from the doors of the caravan, and look up to see Eddie closing the curtain that leads to the front seat. When he turns to see you, spread eagle in just your underwear, his jaw drops and he takes in every inch of you. Staring back at him, you see the bulge growing in his sweats, and you immediately feel a fire ignite inside of you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you beckon Eddie towards you, and he does not hesitate, walking hurriedly the short distance to you. Looking up at him for a moment, you stare into his eyes, silently asking permission; as soon as he nods his head you spring into action. You take a firm hold of his hips, pulling him to stand between your knees and peering up at him as you pull the sweats and underwear from his hips town to his ankles. Eddie breathes heavily, watching you intently from behind his glasses.

You waste no time, taking him into your mouth and bobbing your head over him quickly. Eddie moans softly, his hand setting on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze as he mutters your name. Your fingers stroke over the rest of his shaft as your mouth focuses solely on his tip, sucking harshly to get a taste of what has already leaked from him.

“Oh, wow,” he gasps, his hand moving to set on the back of your neck now.

You angle your eyes upward to look at Eddie, taking him deeper into your mouth and letting your free hand move to cup him gently. The whine that pulls from Eddie from this motion is unlike you had expected, and – to your surprise – he very gently begins to push his hips against your face.

You can notice the way his legs begin to tremble, so you release your hold on him, moving to grasp onto his thighs. You try to keep him steady, but also take pleasure yourself from digging your fingers into the thickness of his thighs. Now, your head bobs freely over him, relaxing so you can take him deep enough that he hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly from his size, and allow your hands to grip his thighs harder, earning a surprised moan from Eddie.

A few more movements have him spilling into your mouth, and you greedily swallow it all, licking his member clean before you lean back to look into his eyes. Eddie is panting hard, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes that still appear large behind his lenses. With a smile, you help him work the clothing back up his legs and around his waist.

“That’s probably the fastest I’ve ever done that,” you say, with a laugh.

“D-Did you have another dream?” he rasps, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Uh, yeah,” you smile. “This one was a little more intense though.”

“I gathered that.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I-I just wasn’t expecting it,” he mutters, biting his lip. “But I enjoyed it…a lot.”


	33. Plush (Eddie)

You feel like a teenager again, sitting cross-legged on your bed with Eddie sitting on his knees in front of you. He used your stereo to play a new album he heard about – Kylie something – and while it was not something you would have chosen to have sex to, you want Eddie to be comfortable. As you peer up at him, he straightens his glasses on his face, clearing his throat as he leans in towards you, giving you a soft kiss.

When Eddie does not deepen the kiss, you take the opportunity to do so, slipping your tongue into his mouth, pulling a moan from him. Still, he does not make much effort to return the intensity of the kiss, and you pull back, looking up into his eyes to find an answer.

“Am I being too pushy?” you ask, knitting your brows. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I just thought–”

“No, no!” he replies, hurriedly, grasping your biceps. “You aren’t being pushy, it’s just…” When he trails off, something that looks like panic flashing across his face as his eyes quickly cut past you for a brief second. As soon as his eyes look back to you, he swallows hard, and you shoot a glance over your shoulder in search of what is making him nervous.

“Baby,” you say, looking back at Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“Those…plush dolls…” Eddie nervously, bites his lip and furrows his brow, his nostrils slightly flared as he breathes hard. You stifle a laugh when you watch him give the dolls another look, so you glance at them, seeing nothing wrong with the two small stuffed bears sit on your chest of drawers.

“Eddie,” you smile, turning to him again. “Are you scared of stuffed animals?”

“That’s ridiculous!” he answers loudly. “I know…that they’re just some stuffed toys…but doesn’t it feel odd? Like, they’re watching us.”

“Oh, so you think that my teddy bears are gonna be scandalized when I start sucking your cock, is that it?” you ask, tipping your head to the side and grinning at him teasingly. You notice the tinge of pink hit Eddie’s cheek, and he lets out a small sigh. “Do you need me to put them away?” you ask, licking your lips. “That way they don’t hear your pretty little moans when you let me ride you. Or see how red your face gets when you finally come inside of me.” Eddie swallows again, licking his lips and letting out a shuddering breath.

“Uh, yes,” he mutters. “Please.”

“I’ll do that for you, baby,” you chuckle, standing from the bed and moving across the room. You grab the plush toys, and throw them into the closet, turning back to Eddie with a dramatic gesture of dusting off your hands. “There we go,” you say. “Feel better now?”

“I do, yes,” he nods, holding his arms out towards you. “Come back.” You stick your bottom lip out, mockingly pouting to tease him; quickly, you pull your shirt off and slip your shorts down to your feet. Quickly moving back towards him, you kneel onto the bed and gently shove him to lay on his back. “You are so lovely,” he whispers, as you straddle his waist. “You take such good care of me.”

“Mmm,” you hum, grinding down onto him. “Now, why don’t you show me what you were too scared to do to me in front of my bears, hm?”


End file.
